These walls

There's a hidden mystery behind these walls.
& this mystery is loud, calling out for me,
and I'm listening although it is silently dark.
At the shift of a second,
the wet paint smells deafening
and the cracks start to show.
The windows are held tight
and the door is sucked in,
slamming hard and weakening at the hinges.
It's a cold world,
and the roof knows the clouds will rain.
It keeps it from us, it won't tell.
Until the drops get too lusty
and the roof will have to give way.
We are cornered.
These walls won't move.
Where is a Samson when you need him?
To push these walls down.
I hear they have ears too
and their eyes have seen our darkest sins.
It's a cold world,
and these walls know the winds will blow.
But they keep it from us, they won't tell.
Until the zephyr turns too husky
and these walls will have to give way.
Behind these walls is where I found peace
and turmoil at the same damn time.
Behind these walls did I seek solace
and found a place I called home.
In this space, have I reveled and in it, also, have I wailed.
Times have been patient and subtly merciless..
and I have been wrongfully jailed.
My will imprisoned.
Call the prison and the fire department,
oh, yeah, and the police, too.
I am about to bring these walls down.