The unspoken narratives

These walls hold myriad secrets, far beyond what you know,

They whisper tales of love and pain, stories concealed below.

Some walls reveal their scars, stains etched upon their face,

While others stand pristine, untouched by time's embrace.

On one side, your name inscribed, a testament to your reign,

On the other, a portrait painted, reflecting your joy and pain.

If these walls could speak, they'd share my part in history,

The tales that were once mine, now woven into a mystery.

These walls have become witnesses, to my life's grand affair,

Silent spectators of my joys, sorrows, and every heartfelt prayer.

They've seen the chapters unfold, the highs and lows intertwined,

Each brick holding fragments of the story that once was mine.

But now, my stories have become a mere fragment, a fleeting tale,

Lost amidst the echoes of time, like whispers carried by the gale.

Yet, if the conversation turns to these walls, yes, they have seen it all,

For within their confines, my story finds its place to recall.

-inkit_poetry