I had built a cage for my heart.

I had built a cage for my heart. For years I kept its keys in my pocket, waiting for a passerby to unlock the door for me.

There are three types of passersby in this world:

1. One who shrugs at the sight of the cage.

2. One who violently hammers the cage.

3. And one who bravely asks for the key.

I've encountered it all, being the first at the largest percentage, and the third being the most ideal.

I had built a cage for my heart. For years I kept its keys in my pocket, waiting for a passerby to unlock the door for me.