My Walls (Heavily influenced by the poem, 'I Build Walls' by an anonymous writer)

My walls,
Cheap,
Rusty,
Chafing,
Invisible.
They sit upon closed battlements,
Bringing a tune of days gone by,
Protecting a lonesome doll.

They do nothing as I move about,
From place to place,
To place to place.
Just sit,
Wavering,
Whispering,
And keep it all out.

And When comes the Passersby,
Lullabies,
And Deep strong Whispers,
Guide him to a lonely rope,
Dangling above the walls,
To fall,
To die.

My walls sit there.
Day after day,
Year after year,
Bringing all the people who come by,
To their doom..
Just to protect,
Just to serve,
Just to hide,
The doll inside,
Gilded iron walls,
That the doll himself wears.

And the walls,
Invisible to all,
With their bangles,
Banners,
Whimsical Spikes,
Simply sit there,
Waiting for their next victim,
Guarding,
A Lilied,
Nightshade,
Poison,
Killer Doll.

ISA