When the minutes roll by
with all haste and quickened pace
I shall sit idly in my seat as they fly,
my hear resembling the broken Vase,
sitting chipped and broke,
as the music and sound of the night,
befriends my ears and invoke,
the sense of will and might
that I shall rise from my eerie seat
and move and motion change
for this my heart is over being beat,
and so I shall get to building some strange
fort and wall, with sufficient space
to roam and thrive in the hearts fair keep,
and I shall always be prepared incase
the bitterness of the world shall creep
upon me and spring in the night,
I shall truly be at arms, always
willing to show them my might,
and give them that which will amaze
even the stubborn and prideful
that they may feel as well the renewed
strength of my heart.