She has a vintage soul, Full of rusty and dusty memories, With the antique eyes That seen some terrible events, Her beauty reflects the Victorian epoch, Her wisdom is such sterling that Vanquish the wisdom of Socrates, But the fate and destiny Leads her in the 21st century, She feels like an alien Who lives in a stranger place But for her comfort in this world, She has her books and a coffee mug.
The clean church Christ hangs on rusty nails, dozen-fold years denied a resurrection, tied to everlasting pain and death, heaven denied, mortal redemption denied because the flesh, existing between hope and despair, refuses the soul’s release.
The congregation is dead to peace, only knowing the scrapping of their knuckles on the smooth stone- dead to the light, seeing only the night, dead to divine comprehension, dead to the angels hiding in their coarse crosses of common wood.
Outside the lamb bleats in the snow wandering unheard in the wilderness, fearing slaughter more than charity, wandering far from their muffled mouths, wandering far from their questioning, wandering far from their sense of things.
You will be safe as long as I'm here with you You don't really need me, it's true But I'm here I'm not what you expect in a knight I'm not charming I'm not super strong I'm not even that brave My armor is old and rusty My sword is broken I don't even have a horse But for you, I will fight For you, I would die For you, there is nothing I wouldn't do
Not myself, Not with those wide staring eyes. Staring through this wall of water, Leaking from my attic spaces. My brain leaks fears, like a rusty tin tap. No, not myself. Not with these thoughts or falling tears.
Depression sometimes makes you into someone you're not.
Here. Have this. It's a key. But not just any key. Maybe it's a little rusty, a little old, a little worn. But it's yours. And maybe sometimes if you hold it, it jabs into your hand, But it's yours. And maybe one day you'll lose that little key, and you won't know where it went. But don't worry. This key is yours. This key will always be yours. Because this key, this small, old, rusty key, is the key to my heart.