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.