There is a heart,
It has been hurt too much,
Sometimes by its own doing,
But hurt nonetheless.
There is a shattered box,
The cobwebs within it ripped apart,
The thin wisps hanging shamefully-
Ornaments no one will ever really know.
A hammer lies fallen among the debris,
The centre of a powerful ripple,
Unknowingly destroying everything in its wake.
There is a girl
With scattered thoughts,
Crouching in pain, holding her chest in her hands,
Holding it together like a bouquet of flowers
Whose scent holds mysteries of untold stories.
She is picking needles out of her skin
One after the other,
And blood gushes out like water in a broken dam-
Finding freedom in unlikely places.
It does not hurt her, her tears are gone,
She is wounded, yes,
But the fears are gone.