You say you want to know my heart

But when I give it to you,

You turn it away.

 

These words I write are more than words

They are peices of my heart.

These stanzas and lines are all I've got

But you can't understand

You never could.

 

To speak these words out loud

Is to welcome ridicule

And expect a broken heart

But this I cannot chance

For my heart is like fine spun glass

Easy to crack

Impossible to put back together

 

You sit there judging me

Saying my ramblings are nothing but words

I don't even bother to explain no more.

 

These words that flow from my soul

Can never be stopped

To stop these words from coming

Would be detrimental to my health

For to stop breathing would be healthier

Than if I were to stop writing these words

 

If I were to keep them bottled up

I would go crazy

Crazier than Sylvia Plath

No doubt death would soon follow

 

So do not sit there

Telling me that my writing is just paper and ink

For it is so much more!

 

It is heart!

It is soul!

It is my very essence!

These words are my life!

 

If you take these from me

I fear life will have no meaning

For how can life have meaning

If you have no heart and soul