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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Philosophy · #1568672
on never learning from the past



There it is,
that wall of stone.
It stands so tall and rigid.
I stand with my back to it.
Gently, I lean against it.
So strong it is against my delicate skin,
and cold to the touch.
Slowly I begin to pound my head against it.
Don't stop,
just keep banging,
over and over again.
It bleeds…
It smears…
It stains…
And then I stop.
I do not cry...
For I will come back again tomorrow,
And do it all over again.



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