Walls (Not Like The Ice Cream)

Defensive women are not born, they are made. Out of heartaches too many & shards of broken promises. From twinkling eyes and cheeky smiles that have shot bullet holes through them. Okay that's enough personifying, let's get to the poem now. 

I build up these walls to protect myself from you,
For your piercing eyes & dimpled smile tends to hit at all the right places,
Before I know it shots are fired & I am on the ground.

But you're not a medic to tend to the wounded,
Or even a Roman admiring your conquest,
No.
You're just a fickle man with a short attention span,
And you WILL leave me there to die.

So I lick my wounds & salt them with my tears,
The pain will make me stronger I say, get rid of my fears.
I lay brick by brick with the passing of each day,
Forgetting to remember that you've gone away.

So now that you've returned & the wall is fortified,
Behind these walls I will sit & hide,
They will not talk to you, that's not what they are for,
They are there so you can't have me anymore.

- SB
11.30pm, 11th March 2016
Ghetto HQ



SB is a conflicted soul of sorts, who is mad enough to go chase after what she really loves as opposed to conform to society and her mother's idea of a successful person. She prays she makes it in life, because she will not be able to tolerate the nagging that would follow if she doesn't. Her inspiration comes from everything around her, as well as made up situations in her head. Good luck distinguishing between the two. 

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