In a room, there lays a chest
And in this chest a soul is at rest
A wanderer that moves with the wind
Came to this house, hearing about a box of sin
He saw it was locked and there was no key
He almost gave up, was about to leave
But then there was a locket
In the pocket of a jacket
In the locket was a paper with a phrase
It told him to repeat it with great praise
So he did, it easily rolled off his tongue
The latch unlocked, open the lid flung
A gray mist began to speak
Told him horrible secrets he had to keep
The secrets were all he could think
It bled through like paper and ink
He sat in the room and withered away
As the secrets took over night and day
YOU ARE READING
A little piece of me
PoetrySometimes I rhyme Sometimes I don't I almost always write But sometimes I won't It all depends on my mood All depends on my muse But right now, here's something from me to you
