The Walls

The walls stood with silence, 

Collecting faint whispers 

Echos swerved left and right, 

Spinning in a circle without a compass to look by 

And other ones eyes fell upon the painting of wonder 

But, the painting was seen to be detailed in with colors

The colors were magnetic 

And others were robbed by a disguise, 

A dark soul that reached under was hidden under the sparkle of an eye 

Until your flesh would start to unfold you, 

and your heart would begin to cry 

You'll question yourself, 

why is this very ocean far too wide? 

How come I'm stuck in the middle of it, 

without a reason depicting why? 

And as the waves crash through your veins and through your sickly heart, 

You'll squeeze your shaking hands so very tight 

and with every breath, 

Every thought, 

Every might a might could be, 

You'll become the prayer that you so wish to see 

And larger gets smaller and smaller until it becomes none 

Do you see how a blank canvas can be filled with a swish? 

Is it following your every move? 

Is it aching your bones? 

Can you move without the sounds, 

Without the looks, 

Without the dark? 

Will you let it consume you till the very last part? 

It's said that the world is so balanced, 

That a question fits with an answer, 

But to find the light in a dark day isn't a divine culture

It's a journey in and out and up and down, 

Twisted, 

and pulled, 

And falling on the ground

But the walls shook with silence, collecting faint whispers.

And then one morning,

the walls were perfectly still

And the whispers left