My Inmost Self

Hey, look, a poem! (I know, right?!) My little sister called it "dark". Do you agree?

What Freud would call the id,
What I will call the soul
Where secrets are all hid,
Inside of one big wall

My soul is like a courtyard,
with an old decaying wall
The remnants of a creation
That once stood bright and tall

Inside you'd see,
Right by the door
A collection of thoughts
scattered on the floor

There's a rose garden to the north,
A pagoda on your right
A path that leads you forth
to a fountain out of sight

Brimming from this fountain
are thoughts, ideas, and such things
When I've run dry, that's where I go
To feed the body that makes me sing

There's a dark place, off to the left
Where no one dares to go
A place full of ugliness and grief
That I would never show

And right in the center
inside a metal fence
A place I've never been to
But what is there, I can sense

Unlocked potential, unconscious dreams,
a love that no one owns
A decision or two, a black locked box
and a purpose that can't be loaned.

But let's instead leave that alone
It was never anyone's to know
Instead I'll take you where
I keep the nicest thing to show

Once inside the pagoda
look right up and you'll see
locked in a smoky glass box
My heart, the life of me.