My Plummet, My Walls...

This plummet hangs steady, as I stand my ground;
My barricades hold sure, inspite of persuasions around;
The phenom of isolation, the spectre of desolation;
And I see you walk by, with seeming indignation;
But I smile in contempt, standing atop these walls I built;
Walls of pride, Walls of prejudice;
Walls to keep you out, ...walls that keep me in;
I smile, for in my hand I hold this plummet;
Measuring these Walls, checking that they stand straight and tall, high and true;
I smile because this plummet hangs sure, down these Walls demure;
And I look out across at you, standing on the outside, looking up at me;
Is that pain I see on your face? Concern? Worry? Distaste?
I know not, but do I care what? I have a life to live;
And in self righteous contemplation, I give myself to it. 
I stand alone, survey the land I may never own, never walk, never feel;
From within my barricade of Walls standing straight, standing true, I know I need not you.
As I indulge myself in this ritual, checking my plummet, testing my Walls, I know my safety is assured. 
And though you call me prisoner within my magnificent barricades, I nonetheless find my pleasure and contentment in this surety: I may never breathe the sweet air you breathe, never enjoy the freshness of the fields you walk, never savour the sweet freedom and fullness of life you live;
But you'll never know the security of these barricades I've built for myself; you'll never know the magnificence of these Walls standing tall, standing sure;
And as I hold in my hand this plummet, checking yet again the perfection of my Walls, I smile at you on the outside;
For my plummet hangs sure, my Walls stand straight and tall;
And these barricades I built for myself hold me in, keeping you out.