Building A Boundary

Building a Boundary

A brick of mortar,

stucco, and spit

is all I need to re-create it:

the wall, the boundary that I have placed.

They run faster to win the race,

to cross the boundary in its infinite stretch.

Why do I feel like an absolute wretch

when I pay attention to the very thing

that screams at my inner being?

My innards are reshaping, but why does it hurt?

They shuffle and crack,

causing a fissure.

A random red spurt trickles down;

others open.

Sadly, I frown.

If healing is healthy, and encouraged for all,

why do I feel like I’m on a 1,000-foot fall?