Walls

• Alexander Woody Coombs, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2013

Walls scarred with chalk-dust lines of endless anticipation,
Rusted bars which contain and hope to punish me,
Echoes ricochet without grace,

Still I feel no regret,
I have no thoughts but that of which I shall inflict,
My eyes are doleful with false intent,

I laugh at their feeble attempts to read me,
Their manuals which cannot describe me,
They question me until I smile simply and recount with malice.