Panic's Poems

These walls

they breathe

with each gust of wind

they scream
not with sorrow

but regret

only regret

They should have tried harder

these walls

they could burst

any second now

the few supports that remain

holding on for dear life

But is it all in vain?

these walls

cry out for protection

some sort of insulation

from some of these cruelties

but then again

It’s always too late.

-Orion, 12-6-2021