Cold blood stirs in a barren heart
The soul long dead
And the heart flown away
Leaving an empty withering shell behind
Cracked ribs creak and break with the wheezing of breath
Cob webs and leaves litter the mind
Making thought slow and insignificant
One day the heart may come back
And enter it's withered cage
But the scars will show
And naught will be the same again