The Heart

There is so much that the heart can take. So many beats, until if finally misses, that it can make. It's fragile and small, Yet strong and can stand up tall, But even the mightiest can fall. Because nothing is perfect, nothing is unbreakable, Nothing is impossible, nothing can be protected for long. And even if it is able to perform its own song, There is always a chance that something will go wrong. The heart is unseen and would rather hide, Than feel like a part of it has died, When it continuously is toyed with, And used just to beat strong and end up slowing down, Not making a sound. It shelters itself from the world and trickery words. Because it refuses to believe, That there is someone out there to handle it with care. And treat it like a treasure so rare, than a object of little worth. The heart wants what it wants, But does what it has to, In order to survive. In a world it knows can't compare, As it fails to see love for what it is, Or to capture its value in their hands. And feel its warmth through skin, Loving it for all it is, It's faults, and even its most darkest sin. So in a life where one can't see importance, The heart stays hidden until it is realized for its beauty. Because their is nothing more beautiful than a heart beat, So pure and young, so wild and free, As it it grows, it learns, it sees. And it is everything beauty should be...