The walls bounce from joy, to sadness, to confusion, to anger and then back to plain thoughts. What is concaved by all beauty is what comes from sadness, every footstep taken towards the beauty is what in which shall leave the destruction of a mind, set at home. All the missing pieces collide and what is left, well that is the beam that is taken upon by the eyes. The walls of course remain the same, yet the beauty that lies upon the walls, well that will grow with the eyes that seek it out. The beauty that stands on the walls is truly a disguise; it masks the pain that is held beneath its beauty. All day, all night, the walls build up their masks while indeed tearing themselves apart. Each piece added to the wall blackens the canvas more and more. The walls hold what we all fear, they tell a story that no one would choose to hear. Our deepest oppressed thoughts, the walls show them to us. The walls are a side of us in which we would rather hide. The walls are dismissed, as they hold no importance except to make the beauty as beautiful as it is, they are merely dead space when compared to the beauty. Yet what we don’t know is that the beauty is nothing without the wall as the wall is what holds all of the personal layers that are needed for the beauty to be beautiful. And as we walk through the rooms in which the walls are masked by beauty, we shall learn how without the walls beauty is nothing. And even though we already know this, we still mask the walls with beauty as we believe that the walls are boring when really, they tell more stories than any parts of the beauty as the walls are a blank canvas which is where the beauty first begins, the walls leave more to our minds and the walls make us choose where we have to path our minds on our trail of thoughts, and that is why the beauty that lies upon the walls are perceived as beautiful because we are too afraid to look deeper.