Walls Fall
A poem
Nov 6, 2020
But still they say,
when our skin hits the white,
it will only just crumble.
Red will stain in the places we wounded ourselves,
but it will be a day that marks when our silence became unleashed,
our tears boiled in rage,
our anguish became one.
When our skin hits the white,
it will only just crumble.
But it is our blood that runs the cracks,
our persistence that seeps deeper.
Walls will fall
and it’ll be our voices they hear.
