My worn, weathered armor is spattered with mud and blood
From a brutal and deadly siege which seems never-ending
The lone queen stares down from her perch with her glacial glare
Concealing from the world a broken heart needing mending

I know she can’t look in the mirror and see the truth
She is her own jailer, prisoner of her own design
The keys in the door of her cold solitary cell
Evidence of me decorating her suffering shrine

From her perch upon the ramparts I reveal to her
The scars I’ve acquired in war to my very heart and soul
They line up so perfectly to the wounds she obscures
She doesn’t realize they are a map to who makes us whole

My vow was to never storm this castle she adorns
Believing a perfect world may exist, I tempt the fates
Unleash the slings and sharp arrows, pain and broken bones
The line has been crossed, it’s time for her to open the gates