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Walls are boundaries that block me inside,
They hover over and shut me within.
It is useful to take my time and bide,
Walls are people illuminating sin.
My actions were equivalent to nil,
And yet they find a way to hunt me down.
Sometimes I wonder if they dare to fill
The bucket of sin that is, with a frown.
Using my time oh so wisely, keenly,
I touch the spot where they wish to throw stones.
Mind Him, those whom throw act so foolishly,
My sin is their sin and yet they are clones.
Oh so morbid how walls see the same thing,
Judging and closing in, forming a ring.