Hidden inside, are the secrets within,
the bland wall has no opening,
The key has disintegrated into tiny pieces, not even, the deadly acid.
The key has sunk inside and has become a part of the acidic death.
Now the lock is unlockable, where the secrets are trapped within.
Writhe not, because the depth consumes it,
deep like an ocean, like the dark world thoust lay beneath is scarce and feared, hated and discreet, and not warmly deared.
As black as hell, the coral beneath is as red as the dark rose wine, looks insidious, hidden and dwell.
The demons lay beneath and do not seek,
thou seek when the winters are dry, the bare **** trees, and a dead body... in a bed of cries.
Skeleton build with muscle, cells, tissue, organs and fat...
is the book cover that had no key, the body that died in tragedy.
The woman that had no he nor she, lonesome and scared, supressed and helplessly dared.
Dared to die alone, rot and starve, no one gave a ****,
because she was invisible to all and there was no one to whom she could confide.
Her ghost kept all kinds of secrets, even the ones all curable and not in weakness.
She went insane, her mind thoust blood it had rained.
Satanic and the devils child she became,
once was heavens angel, sweet and innocent, and was always at bay.
Parents murdered, home burnt down...
she cried a waterfall, for endless days in her mothers gown.
Lived alone, and never whispered a word...