ripped and torn apart,
stopped and shanked,
and yet keep beating without warning.
No one ever told me that it was possible for the heart to be so damaged,
that even the brain couldn't confound whether it was going to go cold,
but still be breathing,
and yet feel like it's dying.
No one ever told me that the brain and the heart weren't best friends,
that it's a trap,
a marriage that ends in divorce,
because that's not what I heard waiver into my dreams from my bedtime stories...
It sends emotions that run through your veins,
leaving you paralysed in your touch,
being left with a shallow shell,
absence of warmth.
It's being sick to your stomach,
wanting your aching heart to come and give you relief,
it's wondering how it has the strength to carry on,
when your eyes close in front of elation.
Now, I hear myself thinking how can I survive without a beating heart?
One that has escaped its cage,
an empty stomach,
and no bright light of life,
But i'm still here and I don't know how,
there is nothing worse than this feeling,
perhaps what its like to be on the edge and cry,
but my heart still beats as I wave goodbye.
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