Behind These Walls

Hiding, behind walls of rhyme,
Chaotic daydreams kept in time,
Iambic pentameter, layors of metaphor,
Protecting, concealing your
Hopes dreams and fears.


Write all your secrets, for no one will hear,
If you're singing them out, loud and clear.


You can drown your sorrows in a drink,
Made of poetry; of sonnets and haikus and ink.
You can build up walls of imagery,
With bricks made of soliloquys,
And within the walls, a box, locked,
The key; a fountain pen.


And within the box,
A notebook,
And within the book,
A poem.
And within the poem,
Where only you will know to look,
Are the words you've been silently shouting.