These walls keep my secrets,
As I mumble to myself aloud.
I tell these four walls that imprison me,
All my blank secrets.
They are quite nice you see,
They haven't told one soul, yet.
Though, no one ever comes around,
Long enough for them to whisper,
Whisper their sweet words,
Like they do to me.
I sit with my head in my hands,
Ever so slightly shaking,
Shaking, shaking,
With these pitiful shudders running through me,
But these walls,
Perfectly white walls,
With my nail marks scarring them,
Keep me ever so sane.
They listen to my hysterical cries,
Along with my sweet, meaningless lullabies.
They cry right back,
And sing with me.
My white walls,
That imprison me,
They are not the enemy,
But my sanctuary.
Adding your comment:
I'd offer to share my room...but I'm not that nice 
