The Heart, it Hurts Most DaysA Poem by LindsayTalk to me through layered bricks, Cracks that surface there, Tell me to ignore my thoughts, My heart told not to bear. No, don’t need your sympathy, Acknowledgement, your kiss. Your kiss, I need like oxygen, But no, I’ll breathe my fist. You decide, you make the move. I’ll play along your course. You, you there, you’re all the same, A heartless tour-de-force. Patterns, disappointments welcome, Room for one and all. It seems that once you let one in, The heart’s wide open, raw. Takes in every worthless case, To hang you there to fall. To wait with sharpened ax to rope, To claw the leveled wall. But pause to write with bloodied ink, The anguish that ensued. The pitfalls that you might have dodged. Through hindsight’s cloudy hue. Our duty is to speak, to teach. We each have one to save Recognize the pain in all, The heart, it hurts
most days. © 2011 LindsayReviews
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Added on May 15, 2010Last Updated on October 17, 2011 Previous Versions AuthorLindsayLaurel springs, NJAboutI love music, traveling, reading, writing, psychology, dancing, and photos. more..Writing
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