Stone Walls embroidered with vines,

to lock out your heart as well as lock in mine.

Among these vines live pitch black thorns

that drip with the blood of those who have been torn.

A box that comes with a keyless lock,

and even though it is made of rock;

with some help the lock may break,

but who knows how long it could take.

After so many years of no one there,

you think everyone around you doesn't care.

Familiar faces that all seem strange.

You feel like a bird; locked in its cage.

Maybe one day the end will come

and you forget you were once someone.

Whether it ends with dark or light

At least you know you put up a fight.