Brick by Brick

Brick by brick,

the wall I built

to survive what hurt me.

Every piece I lift away

lets in one more breath,

one more truth,

one more version of myself

that isn’t hiding anymore.

Brick by brick,

I tear down the fortress

I once mistook for safety.

My hands are dusty,

my heart is loud,

and every crumble

is a victory.

I’m not afraid

of what stands behind the wall—

I’m afraid of staying trapped

inside it.

Removing brick by brick was

the weight I carried

for far too long.

Some walls fall loudly,

mine falls in whispers—

a gentle undoing,

a quiet return,

to who I was before the heaviness.