These Walls.

I built them, one brick after another.

For years, I’ve struggled.

Trying to preserve this personal space.

Allowing no entry to trespassers.

And others who have tried to intrude.

Isn’t it beautiful, these walls I built?

You hate them, don’t you?

You hate them because you cannot climb.

You can only get through.

With words strong as a wrecking ball.

Or with destructive seduction.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.