Cage of bones

wings of flesh.

Muscles hold in the vibrations

as laughs try to escape.

A smile forces its way between bars

to be forced back

by its jailer.

Walls are built

around a secret garden;

roses and posies and green.

Hidden by stone and hard and gray.

There's a door there

left unhinged.

Only the bravest

make it there and

only the sincerest see the garden.

And only I am here

to protect it.

But i am no soldier,

I am not trained.

Little door swinging

with hinges that are

squeaking.

I realize that

my walls are in a state of

disrepair.

Crumbling and cracked.

You have broke my walls yet my

ribs are still a

prison.

Whitewashed clean

stonger than the strongest

words and empty promises

heard time and time

again.

I should like to ask my friends,

some will know what I mean,

when I pose the question

"will you visit me inside these walls?"