The Wall at

The Wall

The Wall

written by: The Quiet Quill



I fell off the wall.
I didn’t jump,
I wasn’t pushed.
I fell off the wall.

Heavy from carrying anger.
Heavy from handling grief.
Tired from tangling so many tears.
Tired from holding on.

I lay there, damaged and bruised,
I shout for help from the King and his men.
They were there as I sat up on that wall,
Never seeing I was so close to the edge.

They can see no long lasting damage,
And in childish whispers agree,
That they can’t fix something that broke itself,
So for ignorant bliss, they leave.

I lay there, hopeless and tearful,
When a warm hand strokes my face.
A noble Knight, who heard my cries, alone,
Was here now, calmly drying my tears.

“Cry no more, my love, I’ll hold you up as
You walk away from your fall.
Because I see you for all that you are;
You were never broken at all”

The Quiet Quill

The Quiet Quill

Writer. Poet. Observer.

An open book with a few words tucked away. I have many thoughts to think and many feelings to feel, which I exorcise through poetry; my therapy.
The Quiet Quill

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