Houses can stand while the people inside collapse. These poems trace the cracks in walls and hearts, where safety was meant to be but never was.
I live and hide in falling walls, Of buried truths in cemented halls, To every glass that broke, it calls, The one who broke it isn’t sorry at all. The chair and table scream and cry, They did no wrong yet the marks deny, Lift the covers and you’ll see the lie, But when I couldn’t do it, who would even try. I hate to be around it all, Broken furniture, a tainted wall, My scream just echoes in the empty hall, Yet the one who breaks it, isn’t sorry at all. I fix the house, each time it breaks, It tumbles down more and more, I don’t have what it takes, “It’s just broken glass and chairs” it says, Yet it paints the wall in coloured hated. I stop and watch as the house, it falls, As piece by piece it shatters, it desperately calls, “Let’s skip through the halls, let’s paint the walls,” But the one who’s breaking it, isn’t sorry at all.
I dare you to confront, The pain you have sent away, The one that lives, In the walls of your heart, The one that sails, In those memories, Who made you what you are. I dare you to set aside, With what you deadened your pain. The one the leaves things unrepaired, And just preoccupies your happy space. I dare you to live with that pain, And not turn away, It’s not a liability, It shows you’re not okay, That ache you carried, Was enough heavy to not just be shooed away, It was meant to be treated, And not left to be decayed. I dare you to thrive with the pain, To survive wasn’t just the aim, To live your life was also a way, To live with your remorse like a heart’s telltale Let the bygones rest, yet honour their weight, To learn, to try, to move with your pain, Because it will kill you, if you dare stay.