Locked with the tightest lock

Surrounded by brick walls to high to climb

The gates bars colder than ice

But it radiates warmth from the inside

The walls so thick, no machine can tear them down

Thorny vines grow around the metal, seemingly unbothered by the cold

Wilting roses struggling to live 

Noises are heard through the gate

Murmurs of bad things unshareable to anyone

A key with a heart at its base

It seems to change size

It needs to be perfect to fit

But now it’s no bigger than a house key

Unable to open the lock, it lays on the ground

It’s stopped growing

The gate doesn’t allow it, too

Every now and then smog fills the air

Tainting anything it touches

It makes the lock bigger

The key smaller

The walls taller

And the thorns sharper

The gate knows the key will help

It can open up the lock

Let life spring out and lower the walls

Give the roses there colour and get rid of the thorns

But

The gate’s scared

Having those gates that reach the sky

Thorns made to cut 

Roses forced to die

What if the smog gets darker

Thicker

Quicker

If the gate open and the walls get smaller

Will it let more smog in

It’s unknown

But for now

The gate’s locked

The key’s small1

The wall’s stand tall

And the smog stay thick