The Prince Of Hollow Hearts Poem by Mason Carter

In the castle's shadow, dim and deep,
Where silent hours in darkness creep,
A prince once bright, now cold and numb,
No sorrow stirs, no joy shall come.
His soul, a hollow, empty well,
Where none could echo, none could tell
The endless void, the aching loss,
Of feeling borne upon no cross.
He sought the stars in midnight's veil,
To pierce his heart with Heaven's wail,
Yet found no warmth, nor light to burn,
In icy skies, his heart did turn.
With trembling hands, he grasped at life,
To end his cursed, eternal strife,
But the balm of love, the fire of rage,
All melted into the endless cage.
He sought the witch, in shadows grim,
To fill the void, to chase the dim;
Her potions sweet, her charms so fair,
Yet not a pulse would stir in air.
The vials spilled, the candles burned,
But still, the prince, with heart unturned,
Felt nothing deep, no tear did fall,
His mind a fortress, bleak and tall.
The priests and sages, wise and old,
In whispered hymns, in tales retold,
Brought sacred rites and holy words,
Yet still, no voice within was stirred.
He sank in sorrow's deep embrace,
The love of life—a ghostly trace.
He walked through all of Heaven's doors,
Yet found no key to his own core.
In the garden, 'neath the moon's pale glow,
Where flowers die and winds do blow,
He wept not, for his eyes were dry,
No tear could fall from his cold sky.
The roses wilted, the trees did moan,
But the prince, alone, and left unknown,
Could feel no pain, could taste no joy,
As lifeless as a forgotten toy.
He turned from prayer, from grief, from cries,
And gazed into the empty skies,
No longer seeking what was lost,
For he had learned the bitter cost.
Apathy, his only friend,
A solace that would never end.
No sorrow pressed, no joy did rise—
He'd sealed his heart in coldest lies.
And in the end, when all had fled,
When dreams and hopes lay cold and dead,
The prince stood still, a shadow cast,
Content at last, to feel no past.
For in that void, that endless night,
He found at last a twisted light—
A peace in numbness, grim and deep,
The prince, at last, had learned to sleep.

— from 'Gothic Poems to Love & Liberty: A Collection of Poems on Myths & Broken Hearts