The Heart
The only organ that can be
Crushed, Shattered, Maimed
Twisted, Pierced and burned from within
And still it beats when you’d rather
Lie down in the Clearing and Die
The Heart
We talk of it being sensitive
Fragile, tender and soft
But it’s not
How could it be
When we take a knife to it
Over and Over again
Bleed out every time
The membrane is breached
And you open that door
Hoping against hope that this time is different
That the words spoken are real
That you found someone to believe in you
Only to have those dreams dashed on the rocks
The atrocities we visit on our emotional centre
Should leave us ashamed, driven to be kinder
It doesn’t, for we cause harm everyday
In love, we hold it high, cupped in our palms
We offer it as sacrifice,
It sings songs of fairy tales and dark delights
But none of it is reality, a pipe dream
We rip off the Handle with Care labels
Play the game until the pain begins and you are left
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