#1989-Refuge
10/01/2023
Over the years,
Some have observed,
My tendency to emulate rocks.
Hard, dour, at times sour.
For I built walls,
From the inside out.
It was the way I grew,
Watching those around,
Who better knew.
Yet I didn’t witness,
Their walls crumble in time.
I was too busy,
Building and guarding mine.
Now that they are gone,
I can better see,
That they were like me.
Afraid, of what may have been.
