My heart is racing fast,
Beating in my chest like:
Like a caged bird's hopeful reality,
Or a pounding headache pain.
Attempting escape and clawing
At my rib cage to be let out.
My heart is dying inside,
And I am left alone to battle
An evil monster only I can see,
Or feel, or hear, or sense, or know.
I do not feel-- but the soft sensation,
Followed by devastating thunder,
Is taking control too soon.
My heart is just an organ,
And I a person.
But it is indeed a vital organ, and
A person can not be with out a heart,
Nor can a heart be without a person...
Interdependence at its worst,
My heart has made me, me.