My Bricks

My walls are up and made of bricks,
They help protect my mind
From all imagined ways that trick
My thoughts that are unkind.

For years I did not like myself
Because of childhood years
When feelings went upon a shelf
Escaping lonely tears.

I learned to build a red brick wall
To hold back ugliness.
It did not work at time through all
The things that caused duress.

I still possess that wall with me,
Although not quite as much.
My coping skills are those some see;
A kind of mental crutch.