Shroud
Location
My bones are young,
But my mind is old,
Though my heart hasn't sung,
I feel so cold,
I see a story when others see a picture,
I fear that I may be the quarry,
Left to melt under their stricture
I tend to lose touch with reality,
I'm not sure where I go,
But I detach from normality,
I write what I cannot show,
My only true escape,
But those around me will never know,
For it's where my secrecy takes shape.