Heart of Stone

A time may come, when heart, which is said to be a soft piece of flesh, turns to a stone. A stone beating in your chest doesn’t just free one but opens a shell with magnanimous appealing for solidarity from world. While a smile is wore on the pale face and sound of giggles made back and forth, loud enough, the sound is most relatable to a laughter, but , void of life and energy. In short the sinking holes under eyes which must had ‘v some time given way to a river and the crow lines, gaping emptiness of soul inside this rusting body explicitly trying to define itself in that lifeless forced laughter, but see, a smile and a puff of powder hides everything and frees the mind from the uncomfortable conversations one always want to avoid. So then, smile and wave, sit with a stone in your chest, and be very content with it, because a stone doesn’t feel, nor does it break. Here it is then, free from the conventionality and space in which you breathe, which pledges your personality though the luxuries and beauty on name of blessings, still be grateful on them and fly off from all the possible uncertainties, raging inner self. Then with time, slowly, this nourishment of terror leaves, but with a gift, a heart of stone. HN