Mene

Armor

Trembling hands weave strings of the heart,

Fear grips at them.

Fingertips worn dead, black as coal.

Feel the soft thread turn to cold chain.

 

Still, you work this hard metal,

Fill it with the doubt you harbor.

Tears and pain bound it together,

Don your new-found armor.

 

Made from your very soul,

An impenetrable wall.

Taking cover beneath your woe,

Your body shall never fall.

 

Till' there comes a time,

When you must walk a long road.

To find your second mind.

And for love, you'll lighten the load.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



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