Bricks

Life hit me - like a ton of bricks - 

That rained upon my head - 

I did not know I'd be so weak - 

That I'd fall nearly dead - 

The bricks were made of mud congealed - 

And burned into a crust - 

And in them was the world concealed 

And overlaid with dust. 

Life hit me - and I, being hit, 

Was sprawling on the ground 

As more and more bricks rained on me 

With terrifying sound 

Then it was over; and, still sick, 

I rise - don't ask me why - 

To build a tower - made of bricks - 

Reaching up to the sky.