Friendship is not enough;
even those I consider closest
are blind to my depths.
On their own, my walls don’t break down
to reveal the coarse gravel of my wounds.
My features are not eroding naturally:
unseen, within the confines of my mind
is a demolition man with a sledge hammer
and a temper.
He swings and rubble flies
from cracks in my foundations.
My friends try to stop him
but they are knocked aside, unsuccessful.
For they do not understand the demolition man
and what makes him tick.
He lurks within the villagers in anonymity,
only to surface when least expected.
he emerges in full rage, heaving his hammer
inside the stone boundaries.
The demolition man is an outcast,
not recognized by the common folk.
He will only expose himself
to the kindhearted woman that steals his heart.
Only then can he be understood.
Only then can I be repaired from the inside out.