When talking to a wall Disarm all missiles, What good are arrows and spears When flesh is not the offer?
Still the hammer and chisel, As pocks in the facade merely Exspose flaws in their creator.
Extinguish fire and vitriol, For neither burn nor blister Can retool a monolithic nature
Indeed, what good holds fast to these?
Take a brush in hand instead and reach To paint a face and word upon the edifice, Tracing lines for dialogue to breach.
After all, what is a wall But a voided canvas Without title Abutting isolation Intimating a fall.