about a boy who is understood by no one but walls that surround him.

He’d sit and stare at the blank walls which welcomed him each afternoon and comforted him when he needed the world to help, but knowing he wouldn’t have it, it turned to the walls.
His hardest part of living was taking part of a mistake, he thought, so many others thought was the lie he was living, his life. He wasn’t happy. He didn’t pretend.
No more lies, no more living in a fake reality, the words he heard were mumbles to him.
He tried his hardest to believe in himself. But that never happened.
He’d pray each day as he arrived back to these walls, he spoke to them in such depth he had lost track of him and tricked his own mind he wasn’t worth the wait of a reply.
He soon found himself hovered over a black sleek box. His box. His future home.
For years, he has spoken to these walls, but no one listened. No one was there.
His prayer finally ended.  

Submitted: January 04, 2011

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