Music Box

I grave my soul and heart,

and put them in a music box,

I gently place them, hollow and flesh,

and make the tunes start.

I tremble as I hold it,

It weighs way too much,

It's dripping with crimson sorrow,

And is playing a song of lust.

And then I open,

The sealed-up box,

Rusted and cracked around the frame,

I find them rotten, my soul and heart,

Yet still playing the same.

I touch my chest,

A darkened hole I feel,

I close the music box,

And by its side I kneel.

I pray, I cry,

Then I hold it up,

And throw it into the sea.

Then wipe my tears,

And start walking,

To where they call for me.

N.H.