Made of ice, my heart has been
For years and years and years
A palace, a labyrinth
Warded and guarded and feared.
Imperfect, are the insides,
And blistered are the walls
That climb for miles to the sky
In hopes it will not fall.
And hardened I've become
And black has grown my soul
For only I alone has known
To see my gaping inner hole.
And to the sky my walls may climb,
And made of ice I am
Warded and twisted deep inside
And hardened I may stand
And yet here's you, laid bare to me
Knocking at my door
Imperfect sure, and broken maybe
But I open more and more
And I, imperfect too
Am now more vulnerable
Laid out here for you
I thaw out from the cold.
YOU ARE READING
Deepest Afflictions to Random Speculations
PoesíaSometimes We cry Sometimes We laugh Sometimes It's one of the same thing Warning: may contain strong language, adult themes, and an unnecessary amount of "extra".
