The links of the chain sit on my nape

The key lies on my chest

The cold metal is burning in its shape

The metal cold to the touch inspires a fiery beckoning,

This might be one of my biggest tests

The key seems to open every door there is

It seems like the perfect way to win back the sanity the world took

Little did I know, the supposed answer key to life’s quiz

Was from the wrong textbook.

I opened the door to the terrace, stepping onto a roof ridden with rain

The cold wind pushing me to the edge

The abyss that lied beneath was a spitting image of the disdain

The key was suddenly backbreaking, threatening to pull me over the ledge.

I felt myself tip over

Looking down at the bittersweet channel of release

Before it was too late, a stroke of the four-leafed clover

The clouds parted

In a dying sky as flat as a board came a shining golden hopeful crease

The warm breeze tickled my cheeks

Pushing me to the other side of the line

Maybe not this week

Maybe I should give it time

I sprint down the stairs, looking for a home

But the key pulls me towards the drawer

It seems to have a mind of its own

A superior power

The same key opens the chest

Once again, it fits like a glove

Within it, a piece of destruction

Of God’s creation

Sitting at rest.

I feel the cold barrel push against my head

Tempting release antagonistically pulling me to God’s stead.

A twitch of the finger away from the full stop

An itch in my soul makes my heart drop

I see the dying flame in a withering heart battling

The frigid feeling of the weapon against my temple stabs my conscience. It’s rattling

Focusing on the fickle yet fiery flame burning off of the faith in fellows,

A fighting soul suddenly revitalized, eternally enlightened

My heart sets ablaze, the desire for death sent to the gallows

I see what I was previously blind to, I am a little less frightened.

Run, run my friend

Far from the roof and the drawer

Death is inevitable. Do not rush toward the end

Escape this excruciatingly enchanting tower.

The key around your neck might burn with desire

A desire for relief from the world of torment

I look back at the tower, base to spire

It is just a representation of a heart without expression, a kitchen without a vent

So, if you are lost in this tower yourself

I hope this is a call to shake you

This is a call to wake you

You have the strength to break out of the rooms of this maze

You have the strength to put that burning desire on a shelf

You deserve the warm breeze; you deserve the inner blaze.

Dear Reader

You matter

Share your story, it’s better heard than told

You are a soldier, you are a rock

But the key that seems to be the answer to all questions might just unlock Pandora’s box.