I see the wall and I see them fall, we break through them all. My eyes water, drip,drip,drip, into the ground. I tire of getting attached, then having everything fall short. Really makes me ponder…If I can have the best of both worlds like I see in my peripheral vision! Ripped apart from years of torture; I do not know what is to come of me. I see myself now, but my head is clogged with an evil, misty, scrutinizing smoke, the presses against my skull. So much fumes, second hand smoke from all the lies that I’ve been living. Inner amity seems like a toy that looks beautifully fabricated, but given time outside of it’s package, it produces a hairline fracture, and when left alone, will split and break into tinier pieces that are distant from any type of glue, any kind of repair.