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Rhythm
November 27, 2011
Here I stand, watching
the snow falling gently
my heart has been broken
not once but twice
can't you see?
I'm slowly dying inside?
my heart beats to a broken
rhythm
My hand pressed up against
the glass, cold and liveless
My heart can't be healed
not by band-aids nor sticks
Can't you hear it?
The sound of that broken
rhythm?
It plays a sad song
not only for me.
I'm slowly dying
not of illness but
of a broken heart.
© Janessa B., Kannapolis, NC
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Go on and try to tear me down. I will be rising from the ground, like a skyscraper<br /> <br /> Love is louder than the pressure to be perfect