Super Muri Quod Rimas

Some I hold out, some I let in
Some manage to squeeze in, leaving a crack
I want to hurl myself down and widen the gap
It doesn’t matter if I redecorate
Some can’t see the other side;
The peeling wall with chipped stones
The mental blocks overplayed with smiles
I am enshrined in two different worlds
The one I find cosy, I snug into often
But I am the map, my warring mind the compass
A road is a road, if it leads home
There will always be wanderers
Not so many to make it a crowd
Fences will break, defenses will wear off
And a brick will still make a wall.

Vera