Monologue of a Heart
I am so big, yet so small. I am the size of a fist, but I can hold many things. I do many wrong things, even when I think I am doing the right thing because it feels right. Even though I cannot break myself, you can still break me. I am very delicate.
I have been torn and broken but I somehow still work. Except I will not be the same as when I was brand new. When I was new I was very warm and huge but after being broken so many times I am cold and small.
Sometimes you can hear me beating like a drum. Pounding loud and hard when I am scared or frightened. When I get nervous I run faster than a racecar driver, driving 200 miles per hour.
Once I slow down that means I do not have much time left. Slower and slower, I will
I am so big, yet so small. I am the size of a fist, but I can hold many things. I do many wrong things, even when I think I am doing the right thing because it feels right. Even though I cannot break myself, you can still break me. I am very delicate.
I have been torn and broken but I somehow still work. Except I will not be the same as when I was brand new. When I was new I was very warm and huge but after being broken so many times I am cold and small.
Sometimes you can hear me beating like a drum. Pounding loud and hard when I am scared or frightened. When I get nervous I run faster than a racecar driver, driving 200 miles per hour.
Once I slow down that means I do not have much time left. Slower and slower, I will