Am I glib?
Very well then, I am glib.
I am hurt, and must protect myself.
I’ve built up a maze,
Of intricate ways,
Wrapped in a blanket of nonchalance.

Each delicate riddle,
That leads to the middle,
Connects to a trap door of some kind.
In no way capricious,
It’s easy to see each is,
Formed from scars on heart and mind.

Each test there to see,
If you’re really worthy,
To find your way through to my heart.
If you’ve no stamina,
Like old Indiana,
Then  really, don’t even start.

If you spring a trap door,
You won’t see any more,
You’ll reach a point you just can’t pass,
Make the wrong choice,
Use the wrong inner voice,
You’ll just slide right out on your ass.

It’s been murmured around,
I don’t want my heart found,
Truth is though I just don’t want to fake it,
If that means I’m denied,
One who makes it inside,
That’s a chance, and I’ll just have to take it.