Those Things You Call A Poem

Locked Warmth

Easy to be bad, heedless of their gaze,
Mischief and chaos, my nightly phase.
Relationships crumbled like sand in the haze,
Disdain I welcomed, their darkened phase.

Kindness locked away, behind walls so high,
Fearful to share, lest it wither and die.
Compassion concealed, as days pass by,
A selfish guard, under starlit sky.

I watch the kind fall, exploited and bruised,
Compassion as weapon, too often misused.
Guarding my light, where shadows are infused,
Alone in my warmth, where solitude is fused.