The Heart

The heart is a stone, it feels weighted alone, when there is nobody to see

But if the heart is a stone will it skip 'cross the surface? or maybe the bottom is where it will be 

Because the heart, like a plant, can be cared for and nurtured and branch out and touch those around

But the heart, like a plant, can be bent and be broken and leave nothing but leaves on the ground 

Well if the heart is so precious why is it neglected? why is it affected by pain?

Why can’t love be protected and hope be projected to undo our strife and life's strain

It may be because of our fathers and mothers and the ways that they taught us to be 

Or maybe we no longer care for each other as the essence of love starts to flee

We must learn to stop, these tears learn mop, and turn the next page of the book 

Because we love and we hate, and before it’s too late, we must open our eyes, and stop using our hearts to look.