Walls

These crisp gray pieces standing in my way, I stand in grief as they sway. Patterns of clocks go ticking in my head, And the only way out is to stay dead. Gray and stable as can be, These walls have gotten the best of me. The ceilings stand so high and mighty, Revealing the existence of god almighty. How could one end up in such a place? Ask Him, for he is full of grace.