The Death Of A Heart

Here is my heart it was in your hand,
a sledgehammer tapping a fragile glass:
shattering it into a million pieces.
Separation for months has stripped me,
I remember who I was before I found you,
now rules and regulations have caused the death of my heart.
Jagged, rough, and tattered pieces have been re-hashed
an open wound; bleeding.
A past that never seems to go away, and reminders,
and triggers like a gun, shot into my heart, with a gaping
hole left with pain and suicide pouring out.
"Let go of the past," "think positive" that's my occupation,
it's hard to do, when the odds are against you.
Cinderella fell and broke her ankle, looking for
her glass slipper,
however, her prince picked her back up and locked her in her
own personal prison.
Empty promises that never cease to end, self-centered, and
still happily ever after?
She smiles, appears pretty looking in that broken glass mirror
she broke with a hammer, and cries.
Many run and hide, she is just afraid of damage and abuse that will
strike once more.
Only so much tape and glue can bind a heart that has been broken
into a hundred pieces in thirty-three years.
Will it ever be over? Or is the cycle forever-more?

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