I'm climbing these walls so steep and slick with rain. My grip loosens, my fingers ache, and I'm forced to let go. I'm gliding down, fast like a falling star, and I'm burning. But I stop abruptly as my hands find a spot to hold against the slippery slope, though it hurts, and it's shifting underneith my touch. These walls, so tall, are very much alive. They shiver, they shake, they tremble underneith my finger tips as I pull myself higher towards the top. But my eyes travel down, and I'm scared. My sanity slipping away with my grip on the ledge. I'm so close to reaching the top that I become careless. A fool. My haste makes me miss, and once again I fall down the icy slope.

These borders are shaking away, as my body violently shudders. We are both frightened, both lost.

Both a wall wishing to be more. A bridge, a bridge that'll lead us to freedom. Maybe the depression is built this way, trying to confine me, to trap me inside.

But I'll become free. Maybe not today, but someday.