They want my soul

They want my soul

They want answers to questions

Yet answering their questioning

Takes a toll

They want my access code

To access those 

Things I would rather leave up in smoke

So I ask myself, "Why do they even want to know?"

Clearly I'm just another mystery to solve

Yet it is still my resolve

To give as little as I can of myself without risking a fall

Makes me wonder why they would even bother at all

This curiosity baffles me

Which is not to say that I'm not interesting

The problem is not

That I cannot open up

It's just hard to stay open once the hinge has rusted shut

I often find 

The people I've given time

Were hardly worth it

Whether it's an acquaintance or some queen I used to worship

The detail is important

That's where the devils lives

Though he would hardly endorse this

Speaking from a truth

That makes me feel a little less than positive

I am not an open book

I am a lost volume

So when someone wants to know who I am

Why do they ask in the form of a question?

I am more than words can convey

Maybe a little less than they could ever say