Dead Man's Chest

I lay in the embrace of night waiting in dismay for the coming torture of dawn's awakening. I hear the early bird proclaiming its arrival with such a subtle song but I shut my ears for my mind turned it into raging cries of agony in the midst of peaceful melody. Wishing to hide from the day's impending slight, from its sharp plough, promising to uproot the hurt just like yesterday. Instead I face the jabs, my heart, in a musty chest, which I cut out with a rusted knife. I chained it with denial and locked it with insanity and tossed my past into the ocean of memories to lay upon the mind of the deep. It might someday be discovered but today it is forgotten and the frozen light of day can not harm what no longer has a soul. So I stumble forth in life's cycle with a mask's protection lest someone sees past monotonous motion and ventures on conquest to find a dead man's chest.