If these walls could speak

If these walls could speak
They’d whisper sweet apologies
With regret in their stone-cold eyes
For the limitless heights to which they soar
Come with a terrible price
Crush and melt a man’s very own soul

If these walls could speak
They’d sing a solemn dirge
For the weary backs upon which they were built
Chains and anger clanking in the bitter winter wind
Brick and mortar held together
By the stale, sickly sweetness of blood and sweat.

If these walls could speak
They’d send me their stealthy, sotto voce tones
Warning of shadows pacing the watchtower
Bastard enforcers of fate, of fear and self-loathing
Their rifles aimed at pulsing, throbbing, messy hearts
With an executioner’s glare

If these walls could speak
They’d resound with all the insanity
And the howls, the riots, the unspeakable acts
Behind translucent sheets, under tables and behind closed doors
Upon the maimed, the marred, the unforgiven

If these walls could speak
They’d pray down that invisible hand
To carve their sorrow and shame
Upon my flesh and bone
With their haunting tales of angels and demons
And beautiful, fallen ones
Wrestling, warring for human hearts.

If these walls could speak

I’d silence them all.

If only Grace would pour her light down upon me
To melt the steel, the limestone, and the razor wire
Dissolving the patterns, the lies and the illusions constructed
by my imagination.

If these walls could speak, why,

They wouldn’t speak at all.

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