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.