Poetry of One's Heart

Each day, I call out to you,

Starting to wonder if my voice gets through.

It's so hard down here, so many people dying,

Sometimes I can't sleep, because they are all crying.

I'd be lying if I said it doesn't bother me,

The pain, so real, even a blind man could see. 

The soul within me, they try so hard to bend,

But my heart, my heart was made strong, so it could mend.

My heart only knows to love,

It must, because it beats because of the Man above.

Each day is a God given gift to live,

So, for that reason, is why I always freely give.

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country
Our world
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