You say you want to know my heart
But when I give it to you,
You turn it away.
These words I write are more than words
They are peices of my heart.
These stanzas and lines are all I've got
But you can't understand
You never could.
To speak these words out loud
Is to welcome ridicule
And expect a broken heart
But this I cannot chance
For my heart is like fine spun glass
Easy to crack
Impossible to put back together
You sit there judging me
Saying my ramblings are nothing but words
I don't even bother to explain no more.
These words that flow from my soul
Can never be stopped
To stop these words from coming
Would be detrimental to my health
For to stop breathing would be healthier
Than if I were to stop writing these words
If I were to keep them bottled up
I would go crazy
Crazier than Sylvia Plath
No doubt death would soon follow
So do not sit there
Telling me that my writing is just paper and ink
For it is so much more!
It is heart!
It is soul!
It is my very essence!
These words are my life!
If you take these from me
I fear life will have no meaning
For how can life have meaning
If you have no heart and soul