The Spikes Upon the Wall

There’s a kind of an inexplicable quarrel

Between the mind and the sixth sense:

Why would anyone climb a spiked wall

When there’s a garden beyond a picket fence?

 

But that is the point, isn’t it?

To the spikes upon the wall?

To keep out everyone that deemed it fit

To try to climb, at all?

 

Yet you’re hopeful for someone

Brave enough to go against the odds

And do what you make look like shouldn’t be done

The Rye in the Catcher, The Fly of the Lords

 

My dear, don’t you know it’s rare for an Alice

To come strolling into Wonderland?

Nobody would voluntarily fall into an abyss

That fairytale was planned

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