A dungeon of fear and missed clarity.
Founded by past pains that ponder my perceived heart.
Tell oh tell your oh so damaged heart.
Why does love wrongfully penetrate your lack of indulgence?
You have no space to fill with love in your room; as it were a chest full of lost broken home memories that seem to sit so still fully.
Tell, oh heart why you push good enough aside.
Perfect, persistent, and cloned.
Not a single stroke of a brush would fill your insecurities.
Making your pain so visible.
You know the heart gets what it wants and when it craves it feels like a mess.
You seem to be thrilled and mixed with a pain so deep.
That haunts over every righteous will of your being.
They know your insecurities and mysterious unforeseen weaknesses and pain.
But you’ll never cause her to end her life.
This curse is weak compared to her strength.
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