I am the bricklayer;
I am the builder of walls.
I know not for how long I have filled my position,
or when it will end.
Worn and weathered are my hands.
Hurt provides the encouragement for my work.
A tormenting shiver
the sting which calls me to my task,
gives clarity to the day.
"Hide my memory of the painful past. - Bury so as to never be recalled."
Aching is my mind.
And so I go to work...
Remembering the days without an end,
the better which have yet to came...
one last time.
For now this collecting of emotions...
this snaring of many moments
A final reunion of memories,
Ashes to ashes - a funeral for them all.
Every stone sealing a feelings fate.
Every wall providing shelter.
Every brick filled with tears.
Worn and weary is my soul.
Cold are their stone walls,
unassuming are these memoir tombs.
With them my mind has slowly become a wasteland,
a dark crowded cemetery.
I try my best to stay away.
"Rest in Peace." their headstones read;
"Within these crypts echoes of the past fade away,
their screams of solitude, their silent defeat...
...the very pain which fueled the building of these walls.
May they never be released. May they never be relived."
And so, I try my best to stay away.
I am the Bricklayer;
Try your best to stay away.