Barbed Wire
Everytime I move they dig deeper into my bleeding heart.
Ripping, tearing, gashes...
New scars become old scars, until you can't tell them apart.
And I'm left with shrapnel, cold, alone, and dark.
I'd do anything to make the bleeding stop.
But you can't put a tourniquet around your heart.
The only way to heal is another round of darts.
So naive, you think you'll win being honest from the start.
None of us are that smart.
It's all barbed wire around your heart.
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