Walls Poem by Jesser Weaver

Driving....
down a deserted road as the night falls.
My mind is running wild...
...and seeking the truth from the white walls. 

It's true....
If the walls could speak...
it would be one hell of a story,  
but that's not even my concern....
.....and not included in my worries. 

Envision when the lights go out 
What the walls didn't witness.
People commiting crimes and lies....
it has become a sickness.....
 
As Hours turn to days.....
and days turn to weeks....
how can I possibly.....
get these softly painted walls to speak?

I can keep asking...
why but in the end I will never get a reply.

What happened before I moved in?
Is there something I should know?
 If I scrape the paint off....
.....will the truth begin to show?  
Of course not, I must be going crazy.

A minute to you is 60 seconds....
to me it's an hour. 
I think I'll paint these walls black....
to blindfold them while we shower. 

So sit down and take a seat.....
these walls don't miss a beat....
they watch you as you sleep. 
God knows where you've been....
even if you wash your feet. 

These walls.....
Saw you as a baby.
They witness you crawl.
They're just like God.
They've seen it ALL.