The say poetry is a great way to bear your soul, but is the picture we get really whole? Constructed
sentences and grammatical rules force the images and ideologies into the confines of reality. All because we
are tying to be as real as we can be. Words chosen with precision and hopeful decisions that what we say
and when we say it makes some sort of tiny difference, trying to build up some sort of self-defense by tearing
down this emotional wall. That somehow the feelings that made up its mortar would also fall, yet as it all
tumbles down the world appears that much more terrifying all around. Another trust shattered, another heart
broken. Another wall built, another set of words carefully spoken. Hoping this time to permit the vulnerability
without the risk of facing that same sense of fragility. No longer tearing down entire walls, but instead building
little windows and doors. Allowing a look inside and visitors to come and go, but preventing any of the hurt
that came before.
