Crimson red is the color of the set of bricks
laying in a pile next to me.
as I sit there, on the floor, I grab the few bricks
to start to bottom layer.
add the cement for the next layer,
and the next, and the next.
make walls in front of me,
beside me, and behind me.
scared is the one who sits in the middle hugging her legs
from the fear of, well, everything.
as the walls dry up, she sits there,
emotionless, as cold and hard as the walls.
she got what she wanted.
no one can get in.
but she never thought that she wouldn't be able to get out.
she screams,
pounds on the walls, and cries.
the only wall that has crumbled down is the one behind her,
the one that opens up to her past.
fighting furiously on the front wall
for she does not want to go backwards
to the past.
do anything to keep moving forward
cause the past holds nothing
but bad ghosts and haunting memories.
i wont give up
and I'll keep pounding on this
wall that divides me and my freedom
because i wont go anywhere
but forward.
