They always escape- finding little gaps in the brick wall. I
had left those for little stems to shoot out, green as the pensive ocean. But
they used it instead. They never left stealthily. They loosened the bricks
more, when they shuffled their way out roughly- gaps widening and making my wall
look shabby and unromantic.
Sometimes I wake up to find they are gone, and then, only
the graffiti is a remainder. Colourful graffiti that will constantly claw my
eyes till they will pop out of their sockets and crawl into the secrecy and
warm safety of my treasure chest.
They never stay. Either it is not cosy enough. Or it is too
cosy, lavish and luxurious. It is never a Goldilocks state where they can
snuggle in the crevices and let the wind cradle them. It either gets too hot or
remains too cold.
The wall was built with hope for mortar. Slowly time,
patting it gently to ease, knocks off crumbs first, and pieces later.
Someday, the wall will fall. And there needs to be no
escape. There never would be a place to stay in the first place!
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