You’d think that my:

Thirst can never be quenched the way I’m always drinking,

I look for happiness at the bottom of the bottle labelled wishful thinking, 

If pain was a stench this room would be reeking,

         Walls: hanging on by a thread

            Me: relating, they’re my friends

But unlike them if I crumble there’s no Bob the Builder, 

Waiting to sew each piece, applying cement

No, "Can we fix it?" because no we can’t.

You see, like these walls I am an obstruction

You can hang your little distractions on my arms 

Deal with your rage and bouts of compulsion, aversions

I am your punching bag

The pile of rubble that’s nothing but trouble

Throw plates and glasses at me, it’s my job to break them isn’t it?

No one sees my cracks and dents, 

Paint over them, good as new, ain’t no one that can tell

That I am the same broken wall 

Because if I shine, I am not broken at all

You'd think that me and these walls, we can never be the same

I’m a product of luck while they’re a calculated science

I roam this world free while they have no room for defiance, 

Bound to the ground in silent compliance 

Nonetheless, my freedom has me trapped between four titanium walls

Begging, "I just need a little crack" 

A little room for the air to escape 

The pressure is too much, I feel the walls break.