This sword that pierces through my heart,
Held by a hand so brave,
Is made of word and feeling so strong,
It's sure to make my grave

Gently, it slides across my bone,
To touch this heart of rock
It reaches with its death-cold hands
Upon the door to knock

I open slowly, so unsure,
Of what lies outside these walls
Words rush inside like winter wind,
Playing with feelings like dolls

Everything inside held hostage,
Hopes and dreams behind bars
And as for those on the outside,
Nothing's left but ****** scars