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.