Heart Armor

I forged my ribs into blackened steel,

where love once burned, now cold, concealed.

A throne of ash, where hope once knelt—

I wear the scars that fire dealt.

No pulse, no plea, just silence roars,

behind this chest of iron doors.

Each beat—a drum of distant war,

each breath—a ghost I can't ignore.

The stars have died inside my veins,

my soul is rusted, bound in chains.

Yet still I stand, encased, alone,

a heart turned grave beneath a throne.

Let no light in, no mercy plea—

this armor is what's left of me.