We put walls

around our hearts,

for we are afraid

to get hurt.

We hide away our precious hearts,

inside chests,

frightened that other people

will crack them like porcelain.

But when we construct

a barrier around our hearts,

we start to turn into statues,

wearing either a mask of wood or stone,

for we don't want our hearts

to feel the strife of this world.

And when we're hiding

our ruby hearts,

we're hiding them in dark chests,

and we learn to not trust and be open;

and so our hearts don't grow.

Instead of love settling on hearts,

we let the dust and ashes 

scatter everywhere

on our hearts,

on us;

slowly forgetting our true selfs,

as we start molding along with the world.

It seems like we're turning

into robots,

trying not to feel;

but as hard we try, we fail;

for we are people, we are humans,

and we can't help, but care. 

We can't help, but love;

for we're made to love and be loved.

And though we attempt 

to be empty,

the feeling emptiness

isn't meant for us;

it just doesn't suit us, it doesn't fit us. 

For we are meant 

to be

filled and overfilled

with the light 

that shines around us

and in the universe,

with the stars;

the light 

that is in 

this world

and that we can find

if we just peel

back the skin 

of this hurting world.