Poetry: "The Walls"

I find myself talking to the walls more often

I usually speak a mind full of anger and pain

I mutter words of hatred and would cry a little now and then

I'd say conversing with the walls have kept me sane

The walls, my closest and dearest friend

Though they can't advise me with words they're always here to listen

Unlike any other person, they truly understand

And so I thank these blank white walls over and over again

I've discovered, the walls are my only companions

And that I don't have anyone else

I see myself getting more distant by the second

But, my walls are too by themselves

I'm losing grasp of the little notice I so rarely recieve

But I realize that I'm only being decieved 

One day their attention will decease

So I continue to talk to these walls beside me