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The Glass Room
A room made of glass
Worn and translucent
An anguished quiet filled it
You think you see inside
But you only see through it
A room made of glass
So easily destroyed
Sits, discarded
In a house made of brick and thorn
A room made of glass
At the end of a hall,
Closed off and silent,
Has withered memories tethered to its walls
And if you listen closely
Only for a second
Will you hear it all?
The memories
The truths
The secrets
That the brick walls work to conceal
And the thorns work to protect
But when glass shatters,
And it will,
Bricks will bleed.

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Inspired from incidents from my childhood