A broken heart equals to the end of life as you know it;
But, then you gather it up bit by bit;
Trying to make the pieces fit;
But, you try and quit;
It seems like your heart is lit;
Lit by a flame from hell;
As it happens you are watched and known as the girl that fell;
As for your heart it is classified as a murder or kill;
As the hole in your heart has a drill;
and which your tears try to fill;
This murder is only a quarter in the pain you feel;
Somehow, your heart and soul make a deal;
To come out whole or not, you simply ask yourself...Is this real?