The pieces of me.

      Staring at a metallic blade. Listening to it whisper a sweet melody. Saying it will take away all the pain. It will free me from this weak pale tiny body. Saying it will free my mind and free me from all the once sweet memories now tainted but the pain of being torn apart. It calls to me with promises. It calls to my soul. It is a way out of it all. But I do answer not because I don't want the easy way. But because the pain is the only thing that I can feel anymore. It is what teethers my soul to my body. Despite the soul being black and shattered. It is twisted and deformed. Hidden beneath a thin Vail of darkness. Deep within the soul in the deepest and darkest reaches. Where no light has ever reached. It is a place where there has only been darkness. There lays a cold icy black iron box. Inside that box, I have placed the broken shattered pieces of my heart. The box is covered is an ice as black as my very soul. The chains the lockbox of that of pain and sorrow. They wrap the box time over time. The lock that bounds the chains together is made of the logic that its better this way. The key for the look is somewhere safe a place that it belongs. The place will never be reunited with the box so it is safe. That place is surrounded by the purest of light the darkness could not ever touch the light. The key rests in the heart of the place.