Untitled: CSHL, 1998

Untitled (de facto ode to E.A. Poe)

The metallic sheen of a cold,
impersonal world,
comforts me.
I need no shrink,
To knock down my stone facade.
It is the wall to my heart,
With only one,
Cast iron,
Triple locked door;
And only one key.

Years ago,
I locked that door,
With a vow to open it “nevermore”
The problem is,
That I’ve lost my key
And I’m afraid that it’s been found,
By some sneaking thief
With no conscience of mind
Who will rob me blind
In his own sweet time.

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