A brick wall pushes against my brain,
trying to keep me sane,
but in reality,
it’s trapping the helps and the whelps
and maybe I need them back.
If I have no tears or fears,
if I have no worries at all —
then what’s left to care about?
You only care when you feel bad,
and I just can’t feel sad.
It’s so heavy, against my mind,
and I can’t lift it —
I need a grenade.
Perhaps, then,
I’ll find a way
to feel again.
