Bricks in the Wall

I live in a place that doesn't love me.

Surrounded by the hate you give, and then the love that you fake.

I'm Stranded on an unforgiving island

surrounded by sharks with big glasses and text books, their teeth bloody from the remains of calloused fingers, as math questions leak from their jaws.

I am alone.

Here I am, running and chasing as hard and as fast as I can, running and chasing something that I will never catch, searching for something I can never quite find, every clue on the map is one step forward and another ten steps back,

Between the gum stuck underneath the desk and chairs of those who create chaos and pain, they don't see me.

To them I'm nothing more than just another brick in the wall.

Just one more thing they have to move out of the way and stack, up high, so high they forget these bricks belong to somethings created, and either way they wouldn't care.

So long as they get their check, who cares

who goes home and slaves for hours trying to pronounce the name of the book that "Will change their lives"

Who cares about the tears,

Who cares about the pain,

Who cares about the bricks in the wall?

—A.P.M