THE HEART WITHIN THE WALLS
This time around, no blood will be spilt. No sword will cause the flesh of your vicious heart to wilt. Only a silent cacophony will be heard And blemished memories will become blurred. Memories can be despicable soul-eaters, Desecrators of the body and mind-polluters. They patiently grow the seeds of resentment That will trap you in a forsaken imprisonment. Where venomous poison ivy once overgrew, A congealed pond in my eyes will be found. For indifference can leave a bloodier wound Than sharpened blades ever drew. So build a dignified glass castle upon a desolate mountain With stout stone walls to protect it from gales and rain. By the steel gates, draw a scarlet cross. Through these moors you shall not pass.
