A Fortress of Solitude
Heed close, Heed well,
As I on a poem dwell,
It ends not here,
But in the gateways of Hell
In sound mind I evade,
The inevitable work through man's spade,
Percussions and thunders our state invade,
And roar like a lion on a raid.
What to you is forbidden,
To others must be forgiven,
That must be forgotten,
Which dawns like a memory of poor decision.
Legends are not made in a day,
They refuse to believe in mere pray,
Or in fire treated lacked allay,
I’m the only lion living without a prey.
The fortress is not without,
To find it is neither a sin,
Flood your heart unlike drought,
What you want just lies within.
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