Freedom of a Broken Heart
I hear you, but do you hear me?
Do you hear my aching heart?
Do you hear the shattering of my soul?
Of course you don't.
Even if you did hear my very existence disappear,
you wouldn't listen to my pleas for help
Do you understand what I am going through?
The thousands of knives I feel stabbing through me?
Of course you don't.
You don't understand,
just spurting words of encouragement and support.
What good does that do?
My heart, my spirit
won't listen to the nonsense you spread.
My heart is on silence
nothing but my feelings for him bouncing on the walls.
My mind is already shut down
security locked down tight after those words.
My logic took a dive for the ocean,
claiming the day it is found will be the day he returns.
So tell me,
does your petty words heal my wounds?
Unmutes my broken heart?
Clears up my clouded mind?
Bring logic back to my side?
Will that mend my shattered heart?
Will that seek me free?
The answer is no.
I'm nothing more than a broken doll.
Because, honestly, what freedom does a broken heart offer?
Copyright © Joyce Tao | Year Posted 2012
|