No living soul has pushed through
The guarded gates of my mind.
What you know is just the surface
The horrors none will find.

I may not look, but be aware
That I always see
When you think you're getting there
There's miles to go in me.

Heart is tired, barely beating
Wrapped around in chains
The key to which is hidden well
Never seen again.

The bright crimson only leaks in the most battered places.
Violated, left for dead, nothing more it faces.

Once unbound and free to go wherever it may please.
Now hardened, trapped, and cold as stone.
Locked in eternal freeze.