Of the things that come to mind #5

I shall take another layer of myself off,
and as I open up an old dusty curtain of my stuck window that will not open,
you'll be able to look at all of the walls I've put within myself,
a wall of piled blue bricks,
with nothing between them but the pressure of themselves, one upon another...
I've built it my self without realizing it,
I've put it up, and I don't know how to take it down...

And it's not the only one,
there's a few more of false pretexts that wear me down,
today, shadows move past me, but I do not who makes them,
I see a ledge, but it cannot be reached,
I exhale a greeting, but it's just a hollow on the crest.
I transpire what I need, and what I keep is more like a weed...

I have a grasp on a thick rope, but no matter how much I pull,
It always feels loose..
I've been painted on a portrait in which I don't belong in, and it's not a place I want to be...
I write a bunch of nonsense, but in minutes means nothing to me,
putting myself under a shade is no good to me, because I want to be in the rain,
and I try to give life to these letters but then again...
I'm always trying to fool myself..