The Heart Eating Shark

I speak to you from inside a cage,
a cage with bars built out of rage,
a cage which keeps love at bay,
as if the waves of happiness stop 10 feet from the shore,
as if I'm sure there's no way they can possibly rinse clean my battered pores,
as if every wave is carrying a heart eating shark
waiting to rip apart the bars of my cage and wage war
on a man who's heart is premature,
but is it, premature?
or am I just unsure of what I want?
At nights my broken heart endures the memories from distant shores,
where waves did make it that extra 10 feet,
where they lapped and danced around my feet,
when the only danger I could see,
was the fear of drowning in too much glee,
but that all changed when you said his name.
1 syllable, 1 I've heard a million times before as fate insured
I didn't forget what you said to me, 1 word,
Matt.
the name of my brother is now tinged with another bitter taste,
the taste of a man who built a cage,
who built a cage around a man who'd lost the first girl his heart had engaged,
a man who loved,
a man who cared,
a man who listened,
a man who gave a girl every bit of confidence he had in him and what for?
so she could use it to build the tools in which he used to build my cage,
and as I speak to you, filled with rage,
i wonder if I'll'll ever let the waves touch me again,
if I'll ever be able to let them in,
if I'll ever be able to light that spark,
or if I'll always be scared, of that heart eating shark.