Rhythm

Here I stand, watching
the snow falling gently
my heart has been broken
not once but twice
can't you see?
I'm slowly dying inside?
my heart beats to a broken
rhythm
My hand pressed up against
the glass, cold and liveless
My heart can't be healed
not by band-aids nor sticks
Can't you hear it?
The sound of that broken
rhythm?
It plays a sad song
not only for me.
I'm slowly dying
not of illness but
of a broken heart.





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On.My.Own said...
May 16, 2012 at 12:50 am
That was very deep. Good one ;)
 
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