Stone Heart

We all want to be heartless.
We all want to walk through this world and feel no pain.
Have no demons on our backs.
We like to think we can wade through a sea of fire and not even break a sweat. 
But we are not stoned hearted beasts.
We are soft, and pudgy and pink.
We bleed, we do not rust.
We all feel the stab of pain, in the gut, in the back, in the heart.
Our shoulders ache from the little red hitch hikers on our backs.
Our nostrils are filled with the smell of burnt hair and flesh.
 Unfortunately we all have hearts, that no matter how broken or scarred they are,

they will never be stone.


This poem is about: 
Our world


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