HEART of the MATTER:
Eyes focused down on the ground,
walking around with no heart in my chest.
I don’t feel much like me anymore,
a shell of a woman possessed.
I write what I feel to get it all out,
still that lingering loneliness remains.
Does anyone hear that hollowing sound,
or am I slowly going insane?
I wear my heart. on my sleeve as an offering to most,
take it, use it however you please.
It serves as a great protector,
for everyone else, but me.
I suppose it’s payback somehow
for the times I carelessly abused it.
I never listened, never gave it a thought
and now it doesn’t give a shit about me
You get used to it, this hollowness
the best that the. Dr prescribes
In fact, some days it feels normal
enjoy with dinner-and diatribes