Walls is what keeps you from the outside universe so break them down with your mind think out side of the box be original and make a statement. Make them remember your story.
Walls is what keeps you from the outside world so break them down with your mind think out side of the box be original and make a statement. Make them remember your story.
The walls were blank. Much like my mind. I couldn’t think of one thing to say. The walls stared back at me as he tapped his foot impatiently. I chewed on my lip, searching for the right words to say. But when my mind failed me, I looked to the walls.
Some people think that walls are confining. And they wouldn’t be wrong. Walls DO keep people in. But what I think a lot of people fail to realize is that, many times, walls have a purpose.
The walls between us were immense, but invisible. It was like we were on separate countries while in the same room. The walls spanned each place we entered together, forcing us to opposite ends of wherever we were; dooming us to stealing glances and nothing more.
Walls are beautiful. Blue. They remind me of her. I think I may have loved her. Her blue eyes. Her brown hair with that slight wave. Her walls were light blue. Pastel. Beautiful. She had that smile. 16. And it’s done. Over. Never to be re-spoken.
Walls. Am I in jail? Can the prision crisp white depth of a surrounding walls cage me? Would it be able to kill the spirit I have inside? No, I honestly don’t think so. I think I would use the white wall to image, to spark the movie theater of my mind as a blank page would do.
Walls are for keeping things in and others out. We put up walls not only to shelter ourselves from others, but to protect the ones we love from our dangerous volatile thoughts. The walls contain the tiny explosions of emotion not meant for the outside world, but meant only for the confines of self
surrounded as one might be within the mist
an unappealing shade of white in every direction
upon the walls
no matter where I look
there is nothing I can see
that looks better within my sight
The wall is thick, separating us. You are on the other side with dark circles under your eyes, (but I can’t see them, of course); I feel the reverberations of your screams through the palm of my hand, plastered up against the cool concrete surface
o i just cant shake the feeling
The walls and ceiling are closing
and all i want is for you to be ready
see if you can’t hold your hands steady
I’ll be there for your support
behind your knees and al the weakest parts
and all i want is for you to be ready
see if you cant hold your hands steady
These walls confine, my mind wanders past as it drifts into the space beyond. I come back and I realize I am just stuck between these walls. I search for the door to find the beyond.
Walls are all around me. As I slowly peel my eyes open, I attempt to recolect the moments before I wake up in this place. I remember going out with some friends. It was a crisp night, we wandered from bar to bar, letting the drinks slide down our throats without much thought.
Today, it was her turn. One by one, she dug through his lies. To anyone else, he was an honest man, but to her, he was a scared and determined little boy she had met when she was thirteen. It didn’t bother her. Tomorrow it would likely be his turn to do the digging.
The walls were so white and tall, I could barely imagine that there was an end to them. Just me, all alone, trapped in these four, towering, symmetrical walls. How could there be anything else beyond these walls? Had I ever experienced anything else?
Walls are beautiful things. You’d never really think so, would you? I mean, it’s just a wall. Walls are safety; they come around us to form a square and inside of it, the outside world can’t harm us. They’re so important, but we never truly realize this, now do we?
These walls are confining. They are walls that I have built with my own bare hands, with the hope of shelter and warmth. But, they have ended up trapping me. It is funny how the things that we most yearn for are also sometimes the things that will destroy us.
He rolls over onto his back, away from me. That’s how it always is. Whenever I get close, he pulls away from me. I’ve known him long enough to recognize the signs. He put walls around his heart years ago, but I’m going to bring them down. I’m the only one who can.
walls are things in a house or an apartment or any type of building that enclose the rooms. They can be any size, most often they are about 10-12 feet in height. Walls can be painted any color that you choose.
Walls are around a space. They can protect you and keep you safe, or they can shut you away from other cultures and people, so you never even know what ou missed. Walls can be blank or they can be full of pictures and artwork that you or someone else has created. When I was a child, I liked to write on walls. I made crosses with crayons once and when I got into trouble, I asked my mom, “Don’t you love Jesus?” Funny part is, I don’t even go to church.
They were meant to protect me. I left them up for so long that they suffocate me now. Blocking out society and the noises of daily life. It was calming once, but I don’t know the sight or sound of real people anymore. These walls are now a hallowed box of sorrow.
they climbed the wall together to peek in at the garden party. The sounds of laughter tickled their ears and it made them happy to see that someone was rising above the misery of the 60s and celebrating with a party.
I encountered it, overbearing and immense. It loomed over me and mocked me, laughing at my timidity, my smallness. I fought back, I punched, I kicked, I screamed. I wailed and cried. I wished it would let me through. The wall made by me.
Walls — they block, they divide and they protect. Walls can be good because they give us safe boundaries in our lives. It’s the walls that we build between us and another that are harmful and will destroy relationships, families and communties.
The whitewashed walls, to me, looked like a canvas. Is this the place where we would live out the rest of our lives? Is this where we would build a new life together?
these walls are so thick and heavy. there’s no way I can break through them. I just lost 6 years of my life in a matter of hours. staying here cooped up in these walls these walls these walls I can’t do it I can’t do it I can’t do it. I feel so empty and lost. I feel so empty and lost. and dead. trapped and trapped and trapped and trapped there’s no way out there’s no way out.
Walls represent barriers. There are ways to overcome them but it means hard work. Breaking them down isn’t always the right path. Tearing them down one by one takes time. Conquering them is the way to feel confident with yourself. Find a wall, and take it on.
You put up walls but you don’t have to. I put up walls too but you crashed them down maybe if you would just let me help you wouldn’t need those walls anymore. If you just let me be there for you I could but you won’t
The dull white walls were covered with photos of the family. Younger sisters and older brothers. Family members long dead and ones yet to be born. The future and the past all on the dull white walls.
The day the walls fell was the day my brother died. He was my twin brother. He said to me “Harlem, I’m going to kick some bad guy butt. You just gotta promise not to miss me, ’cause I’m doing it from heaven.” He had been ill for months, but he was worse that day. My parents were out, fighting for the wall, though they knew they would fail. Parliament had beed feverish. He had been delirious. But now, on his deathbed, he was clear. He had no sign of sickness, except for the sour aura that comes with illness. I thought I would get sick, because we were twins. After all, we always did everything together, Harlem and Parliament, “conjoined” twins. But we weren’t conjoined. So it was only Parliament that died, at the instant the walls fell. When the gargantuain boom of the tons and tons of rocks falling made it’s way to my ears, Parliament was already dead. He was still warm. What I didn’t know was that my parents had also died, the rock falling on their bodies, crushing them, never to be found again. I had wished I had died that day. Hoped the enemy armies on their huge horses would spear me on one of their javelins. but no such luck. Now, three years later, here I am. A 12 year old Harlem on the rigging of a huge galleon. On the sea that was once my town. Because what I didn’t know at age nine, was that the boom was water. The wall had been keeping out the ocean that encased the entire rest off the world, and the enemy had been time. I had never had a chance, and Parliament an even slimmer next-to-nothing. So now I’m a ship’s boy on a world of water.
“You broke down my walls faster than anyone else…If you were to look inside my heart, the fun days and the sad days, stretching out into a monochrome world
and it repeats….
and it repeats…..
and it repeats….”
Those are the lyrics to the song, or as best as I can remember them. Listening to Japanese music when you don’t know Japanese, I often forget the exact lyrics.
I guess I listen to that song a lot. I don’t know why, since it’s sort of a depressing song, and the tune isn’t all that unique. If I listen to it for any reason, it has to be the lyrics, and that’s why it’s the first thing I thought of when I saw that simple little word.
Walls is what keeps you from the outside universe so break them down with your mind think out side of the box be original and make a statement. Make them remember your story.
Walls is what keeps you from the outside world so break them down with your mind think out side of the box be original and make a statement. Make them remember your story.
The walls were blank. Much like my mind. I couldn’t think of one thing to say. The walls stared back at me as he tapped his foot impatiently. I chewed on my lip, searching for the right words to say. But when my mind failed me, I looked to the walls.
Some people think that walls are confining. And they wouldn’t be wrong. Walls DO keep people in. But what I think a lot of people fail to realize is that, many times, walls have a purpose.
The walls between us were immense, but invisible. It was like we were on separate countries while in the same room. The walls spanned each place we entered together, forcing us to opposite ends of wherever we were; dooming us to stealing glances and nothing more.
Walls are beautiful. Blue. They remind me of her. I think I may have loved her. Her blue eyes. Her brown hair with that slight wave. Her walls were light blue. Pastel. Beautiful. She had that smile. 16. And it’s done. Over. Never to be re-spoken.
Walls. Am I in jail? Can the prision crisp white depth of a surrounding walls cage me? Would it be able to kill the spirit I have inside? No, I honestly don’t think so. I think I would use the white wall to image, to spark the movie theater of my mind as a blank page would do.
some say that you build up your own walls that isolate yourself from others. but what if you really find it impossible to connect ith people?
BUILDERS USE BRICKS AND MOTAR TO BUILD THESE BRICKS COME IN MANY SIZES AND COLOURS.
Walls are for keeping things in and others out. We put up walls not only to shelter ourselves from others, but to protect the ones we love from our dangerous volatile thoughts. The walls contain the tiny explosions of emotion not meant for the outside world, but meant only for the confines of self
cold or warm
light or dark
have the power to
shape
construct
show
change
metephorical or real
Four walls closing in on me.
Why is never more? Why is it always four?
Is there something I am missing?
Maybe I need a new room.
One with rounded corners and no sharp edges.
One that will cradle and coddle me, so the wounds in my back will fade.
Time will heal them. Regret will scar them. Experience might help me ignore them.
But these walls? These walls bear witness.
And I cringe at the story I have told them.
close us in. keep us safe. shape our lives. limit us. teach us. let us adapt. let us break free.
surrounded as one might be within the mist
an unappealing shade of white in every direction
upon the walls
no matter where I look
there is nothing I can see
that looks better within my sight
The wall is thick, separating us. You are on the other side with dark circles under your eyes, (but I can’t see them, of course); I feel the reverberations of your screams through the palm of my hand, plastered up against the cool concrete surface
o i just cant shake the feeling
The walls and ceiling are closing
and all i want is for you to be ready
see if you can’t hold your hands steady
I’ll be there for your support
behind your knees and al the weakest parts
and all i want is for you to be ready
see if you cant hold your hands steady
These walls confine, my mind wanders past as it drifts into the space beyond. I come back and I realize I am just stuck between these walls. I search for the door to find the beyond.
Walls are all around me. As I slowly peel my eyes open, I attempt to recolect the moments before I wake up in this place. I remember going out with some friends. It was a crisp night, we wandered from bar to bar, letting the drinks slide down our throats without much thought.
Today, it was her turn. One by one, she dug through his lies. To anyone else, he was an honest man, but to her, he was a scared and determined little boy she had met when she was thirteen. It didn’t bother her. Tomorrow it would likely be his turn to do the digging.
The walls were so white and tall, I could barely imagine that there was an end to them. Just me, all alone, trapped in these four, towering, symmetrical walls. How could there be anything else beyond these walls? Had I ever experienced anything else?
Walls are beautiful things. You’d never really think so, would you? I mean, it’s just a wall. Walls are safety; they come around us to form a square and inside of it, the outside world can’t harm us. They’re so important, but we never truly realize this, now do we?
These walls are confining. They are walls that I have built with my own bare hands, with the hope of shelter and warmth. But, they have ended up trapping me. It is funny how the things that we most yearn for are also sometimes the things that will destroy us.
He rolls over onto his back, away from me. That’s how it always is. Whenever I get close, he pulls away from me. I’ve known him long enough to recognize the signs. He put walls around his heart years ago, but I’m going to bring them down. I’m the only one who can.
walls behind us, walls around us, we must break through the walls to reach creativity. we can t remained walled in..like big walleyes in the river.
walls are things in a house or an apartment or any type of building that enclose the rooms. They can be any size, most often they are about 10-12 feet in height. Walls can be painted any color that you choose.
Walls are around a space. They can protect you and keep you safe, or they can shut you away from other cultures and people, so you never even know what ou missed. Walls can be blank or they can be full of pictures and artwork that you or someone else has created. When I was a child, I liked to write on walls. I made crosses with crayons once and when I got into trouble, I asked my mom, “Don’t you love Jesus?” Funny part is, I don’t even go to church.
Break them. If you don`t they got higher!
They were meant to protect me. I left them up for so long that they suffocate me now. Blocking out society and the noises of daily life. It was calming once, but I don’t know the sight or sound of real people anymore. These walls are now a hallowed box of sorrow.
they climbed the wall together to peek in at the garden party. The sounds of laughter tickled their ears and it made them happy to see that someone was rising above the misery of the 60s and celebrating with a party.
I encountered it, overbearing and immense. It loomed over me and mocked me, laughing at my timidity, my smallness. I fought back, I punched, I kicked, I screamed. I wailed and cried. I wished it would let me through. The wall made by me.
Walls — they block, they divide and they protect. Walls can be good because they give us safe boundaries in our lives. It’s the walls that we build between us and another that are harmful and will destroy relationships, families and communties.
The whitewashed walls, to me, looked like a canvas. Is this the place where we would live out the rest of our lives? Is this where we would build a new life together?
these walls are so thick and heavy. there’s no way I can break through them. I just lost 6 years of my life in a matter of hours. staying here cooped up in these walls these walls these walls I can’t do it I can’t do it I can’t do it. I feel so empty and lost. I feel so empty and lost. and dead. trapped and trapped and trapped and trapped there’s no way out there’s no way out.
Walls represent barriers. There are ways to overcome them but it means hard work. Breaking them down isn’t always the right path. Tearing them down one by one takes time. Conquering them is the way to feel confident with yourself. Find a wall, and take it on.
You put up walls but you don’t have to. I put up walls too but you crashed them down maybe if you would just let me help you wouldn’t need those walls anymore. If you just let me be there for you I could but you won’t
walls are a rare thing, there are everywhere, in hauses, schools or any kind of arquitecure construction. sometimes this is a metro
They’re running, running, but going nowhere. The sky has turned to grey. Dust chokes them in the streets. Skyscrapers keep silent vigil on all sides.
The dull white walls were covered with photos of the family. Younger sisters and older brothers. Family members long dead and ones yet to be born. The future and the past all on the dull white walls.
The day the walls fell was the day my brother died. He was my twin brother. He said to me “Harlem, I’m going to kick some bad guy butt. You just gotta promise not to miss me, ’cause I’m doing it from heaven.” He had been ill for months, but he was worse that day. My parents were out, fighting for the wall, though they knew they would fail. Parliament had beed feverish. He had been delirious. But now, on his deathbed, he was clear. He had no sign of sickness, except for the sour aura that comes with illness. I thought I would get sick, because we were twins. After all, we always did everything together, Harlem and Parliament, “conjoined” twins. But we weren’t conjoined. So it was only Parliament that died, at the instant the walls fell. When the gargantuain boom of the tons and tons of rocks falling made it’s way to my ears, Parliament was already dead. He was still warm. What I didn’t know was that my parents had also died, the rock falling on their bodies, crushing them, never to be found again. I had wished I had died that day. Hoped the enemy armies on their huge horses would spear me on one of their javelins. but no such luck. Now, three years later, here I am. A 12 year old Harlem on the rigging of a huge galleon. On the sea that was once my town. Because what I didn’t know at age nine, was that the boom was water. The wall had been keeping out the ocean that encased the entire rest off the world, and the enemy had been time. I had never had a chance, and Parliament an even slimmer next-to-nothing. So now I’m a ship’s boy on a world of water.
“You broke down my walls faster than anyone else…If you were to look inside my heart, the fun days and the sad days, stretching out into a monochrome world
and it repeats….
and it repeats…..
and it repeats….”
Those are the lyrics to the song, or as best as I can remember them. Listening to Japanese music when you don’t know Japanese, I often forget the exact lyrics.
I guess I listen to that song a lot. I don’t know why, since it’s sort of a depressing song, and the tune isn’t all that unique. If I listen to it for any reason, it has to be the lyrics, and that’s why it’s the first thing I thought of when I saw that simple little word.