Music and Bones

I looked at myself in the mirror today.  But I couldn't look myself in the eye.  I ran my hands through my hair, and I asked myself.  Who am I?  What have I become?  I began Questioning, Interrogating my heart.  I touched each string, played each fret.  Just to see if my heart could still Thrum.  But the Music sounded Wrong.  It sounded out of tune.  Broken, as if I had Lost something.  As if I had lost Something, and now it's Gone.  My head began to ring, as the whisper of my bones finally echoed through me.  They said: (He's hidden deep, bound tight, under Lock, Key, and watchful Eye).  Well, how deep?  How tight?  Because He's beginning to be one of those things I can no longer Feel.  (About six feet, encased in a prison of steel).  Why so deep?  Who put him there and how do I get him out?  (She put him there.  But fear not, for your heart is stout.  We know you will succeed).  So I grab a shovel, and begin to Dig.  I dig, and dig until body and spirit are sore, and my soul begin to Bleed.  There's two shovels here!  Why won't you help me?!  (We're sorry.  We can't help you with This.  Oh . . . I failed to Notice, until now . . . of course you can't.  Your wrist's are damaged, your knee's broken, and your Marrow black.  I can no longer trust You.  Blinded, I was tricked into taking a Twisted path.  So it's up to me, I guess.  I'll have to find my own way back. . .