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Self Inflicted
Looking out from deep inside
this fortress here wherein I hide.
Formed brick by brick in rounds of pain,
some circumstantial, others made
by hand selecting from the first -
fine crafted moldings of the worst.
With clays of pity, doubt and fear,
mix in the water, make it clear
so all around will go away.
Form isolation day by day
til self-inflicted world of one
is all that’s left, the fortress done.
Now every brick formed tells a tale
of how I crafted out this hell,
where trapped inside I live alone…
my self-inflicted one-man home.
Copyright ©
Jeff Bresee
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