paper hearts
get torn up by the
wind
looking out into the scores
of vacant eyes
realize I'm not going to
recognize
who I ever am
in the shallowness that can be
the world
we can whirl
we can all become
hollowed out
tender hearts made out of paper
see how the wicked wind takes them
as them up as they fly
paper hearts
are torn apart
tape cannot mend them
we do the best to
live the way we are........
Copyright September 1 2015 All Rights Are Reserved By This Author
Melissa A Howells/Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World
I woke up with this little "mess" in my head one morning and did my utmost
to write it down as it spilled out. If it makes sense, then well, goodie goodie.
Sometimes dreams are more lucid than others.
