I carry a plastic heart.
It’s not my real one but
It serves to put on an act.

An act that life’s okay,
That this heart hasn’t hurt.
To the world I am perfect:
I mold my body and soul to
Fit the mood or place or time.

But to those who know me,
I am just like everyone else:
Struggling and in pain.

My plastic heart lets me
Protect my real hurting heart.
Though it hasn’t done its job.

The beating heart inside this body
Hurts from a pain you can’t imagine.

Scars from past relationships,
Friends gone wrong and trials.

A jagged new open wound
Pouring metallic blood on my life
Like acid rain on a delicate flower.

Stitches of people helping me hold
My heart together once again.
A large piece vacant and missing
From my first and only love.
I gave him my heart but I
Never got all of it back.

Small cuts, tiny beads of blood,
I never knew cutting my arm
Was cutting my broken heart too.
Tossed around like a wave at sea,
My heart is colored black and blue.
Disappointment, problems, tears
Cause this heart to bruise.

A knife, stabbed through the back
Freshly made from a disastrous lie
Pokes through, holding my life with it.

My arteries and veins cut and spurting blood.
My life dwindling with every drop of
The deadly blood that keeps me breathing.

Petals of my flowered life keep falling.
They gather below me, reminding me to remember.

Remember why, remember the pain, and
Remember the people who put me here.

I don’t want to remember anything.
I’m at the point of complete numbness,
Not knowing, not caring, not feeling.

I tape my fake shinning heart
Over my real dying one,
Hoping no one will notice the
New blood soaking through.

Hoping I can contain my tears and pain
Behind a mask just like the one my heart holds.