December 10, 2008

Over in the corner of the room,
I spy a chest next to the upright broom.
A chest in which value is stored,
in which I cannot be bored.

A lock upon the chest is steel
Keeping out the things I feel
The key, lost in time and space,
lies somewhere beyond this place.

I want it back, that heart isn't yours
It hurts too much, has too many sores
If I can't get it back then at least share
And I promise, for you, I'll always be there

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