My tower stands alone atop the hills

I built this turret--which doth have no end--

With years denied. It leaves me feeling chills.

And in this tower waits a lonely friend.

I keep him locked where only I can find.

Though, seldom is he lonely in this room.

His hair grows down, he urges me to climb

To where he sings for me a luring tune.

We meet and burning gaze meets burning gaze.

He'd never grace me with a gentle touch.

He'd rather imitate a bullet's graze

Than share with me his itching truth--how much

He says he loves me when he thinks I'm not around

Though he'd not mind if I fell to the ground.