I see a beautiful soul without vice,

Encased in its emotional ice,

Fearing the warmth of embrace,

Fear inside of a happy trace,

Never moving to a light place,

Comfortable in the reality of a case,

Its once beautiful soul now stained lace,

Hearing nothing but its own thoughts,

Ringing over and over what is brought by all its wroughts,

Wounded by scars of realities past,

Bleeding feelings forgotten in its depressing cast,

Trying to heal from wounds long inflicted,

Until misery can finally be evicted,

Breathing wisps of dreams still hanging on,

To the sliver of light piercing the walls long gone,

Eyes glazed with visions of suspicion,

Of the extended hand and all possible attrition,

Withdrawn from the world who had broken it,

Sewing the abyss of which it split,

Someday it will be ready to face its feared reality,

And eradicate the chains of its petrifying emotionality,

For now it cannot be tampered with,

As its brittle existence fights in its frozen blithe,

Longing for the escape of the vicissitudes of existence,

For its dark bastion rewards breakdowns with persistence,

Failure poisons those who come near it,

Spreading to others causing an emotional fit,

If there is a way out; the door eludes all reason,

And entraps all wishing nothing more than a new season...