A ballad from the heart
The heart's a fragile instrument
but shatters if it's played.
A tiny bump will leave a dent
and make the colour fade.
To have it sing delightful things
and nestled on your lap.
You need to gently stroke the strings.
Be rough and they will snap.
When broken it won't sound the same.
That pleasant song dies out.
Then tells a tale of wilting flame
and love that's left to doubt.
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