my heart is safe                  so why is it that                  though, it feels like
in this hand made             the box feels so                    the acid ate away
box that i have                   empty on the inside.           what was left of
crafted myself.                   broken hearts.                      my shattered heart.


within this time                                                                you can picture it's
you read on into                                                               emptiness, going on
a mystery of my                                                               into an empty abyss
bitter heart.                                                                        I call my empty box.


at one time, there                                                             at one time, it used
lay a shattered heart                                                        to be whole and glowed
in a blood stained,                                                            a radiant light, and was
hand made box.                                                                held in a lover's hand.


but days like those             a soul with no heart.            here within my empty box,
no longer exist                    a soul with no love.             stained with blood galore,
in my own pessimistic      a soul without light.             a heart once beat, and a
days of empty shame.       a soul that will shatter.         soul had once been.