Instincts or spirituality
My burning heart is broken forever —
it's beyond my melted power to fix it clever.
My dark thoughts don't help me recover.
My mind can't see clearly, over and over,
wandering off into blurred endless dreams.
Only my mortal body knows why it lives,
when my soul stilled and vanishes slowly.
All I've got is my body under a spell of lovely
survival, which the animal essence needs.
It doesn't think about end even when it bleeds.
My body wants to keep me alive, no death.
To survive, my instincts make me breathe.
I consist of broken hopes and innocence.
I was taken hostage by my tenacious essence.
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