I can see the rising brick walls <br />My shelter <br />My haven <br />I can see them in the distance <br />But the space <br />Oh the space <br />Is too far away for comfort <br />I need to feel the texture <br />Of security <br />The brick beneath my fingers <br />To show that I am alive <br />And that nothing can get to me <br />While stuck inside my walls <br /> My agoraphobic heart <br />Beats louder <br />As the walls just grow taller <br />And the bricks just get heavier <br />And the enemy retreats <br />My walls are still there <br />The scars of past mistakes <br />They cannot be removed <br />So I hold on <br />To these sturdy brick statues <br />Because once everything else <br />Is gone in the breeze <br />All I have <br />Are my walls <br />And my agoraphobic heart.<br /><br />Jennie Scheihing<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/agoraphobic-prison/
