Myth

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 Twisted Path Group

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_twisted_path_group

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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