Misc poem 1

 

Cool hands rest upon my heart

The feelings are fleeting

Fear of being torn apart

An unconventional meeting

They clutch and squeeze

The pain is dull

I let them do as they please

The sensation is null

The fear of being left

Allows them to stay

Can easily be turned to theft

And just may

As a heart stolen

Is easily crushed

A head swollen

Can cuase an easy rush

But as it may

I stand alone as I should

And in this way I’ll stay

As my heart turns to wood

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