day eleven
The Fortress
I could live inside my head Barricade that fortress Then deep underground Drill holes into my heart Watch it crumble to dust And softly fade into the evening.
Sorrow is my soldier Tears are his weapon To serve and to protect The mind's darkest basement.
The more the barbed wires that fence and entangle The more the cuts and pricks, The more the holes my heart has.
To disclose or to close off, This close to breaking down? To tell or to pretend? Or to foretell what I portend? To wear a mask and dissolve my face- Or embrace the underground weeds?
Out of time yet twirling and twisting Is this a downward descent or- Am I climbing the turret?