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.