These walls have made us the beings we are. They have listened and echoed, our words, our creed, our hate. These walls have tied down the souls of us, they made us insane, hysterics, in observing defenceless, uncredulous that there was not, any reaction. We can only halt us, after having used up our nails, over these walls now rough because of our shouts, our burned hopes, by our passions damned, by our minds, dinned. None could ever help us, because as slaves we feel and now we are, of these cursed walls and of these walls damned that, however still give a sense, to our cold life.