When you fall,

It's not just you who falls.

You may try to erect your walls,

Walls of Smiles that paint the world in pastel pink,

That powder the world in peutrid perfume, so sweet it's sickening.

Walls of Lies that whisper, beconning to be found, 

That rush upon you in a torrent once discovered, so fast it's crippling.

Walls of 'I'm Just Fine' that etch their words,

That cut their letters into your skin with a box cutter, so painful it's screaming.

You may try to erect your walls,

But they're just glass. 

And when it's broken it will cut you more than you ever cut yourself,

And when it's broken you will find in your glinting reflection,

As they rain down, a life that is out of your hands.

A life in which you create a crutch of puffy white smoke,

Toxic with the taste of weeds.

A life in which you sit among a comradre of The Fallen,

Singing to the sound of misery.

A life in which you run away from yourself,

Burning with the blindness of rebellion.

It has spiralled out of my grasp, out of my sight, but never out of my mind because,

When you fall,

It's not just you who falls.

I fell with you, down your hole,

I crashed with you, onto the concrete,

And I still feel the heaviness on my brain from the injury.

But I am able to stand back up again.

I stretch my hand to yours and with weights you try to grasp it.

It's been a year now since then.

Your walking along a path now paved with sunbleached cobble stones,

A path growing with young sapplings.

However, we must be weary of a snake slithering,

Slipping through the sapplings.

But I will help you because, 

When you stride along,

It's not just you who's walking.