People and walls
All hide behind the others,
hoping never to be seen.
When the first crumbles away,
the next shows through.
Then when the next is gone,
those thereafter fall too.
Each dependent on the first,
or the ones they stood beside.
Now each lie hand in hand,
near their love, and ones they might deride.
I myself fear their fall,
because when all is gone, I am what's left.
Behind these walls I'm completely bare,
the faultless and incomplete me.
Everything is there to show,
all is there to be seen.
If my strengths wear down,
and I slip and fall,
will the real manifestation of me
be visible to them at all?
Soon my friends could be alone,
for the faith and piety are ever too appealing.
And as they crumble,
I have the urge to run.
To run away from that which I can't control.
To run away from that which I can't repair.
Those who held me up,
I'm so quick to desert.
This part of me I've never seen before shines through,
as the first falls away.
Sinless fear is replaced by cowardice.
I want to hide.
To be the lion or the lamb, is finally my own choice.
To pursue, or to flee.
Which will be the one
that turns into me?
The selfish me,
the one I try to hide,
wants to escape before the walls fall.
Yet, the me I embrace,
wants to be caught in the destruction,
and wants myself too, to fall.
I want to help,
and mend the ever-growing cracks.
To give these walls the repair they need.
But I'm no carpenter,
and my hands are weak.
Incapable of the delicate touch
that everyone so desperately needs.
This empty room so full of questions,
ones only a lifetime can answer.
This silences even me.
To run, to stay, to heal, to remove.
To be myself.
Impossible.
