Im so cold...
My heart is all but warm,
Frozen in pain, its sarrow filled,
Glazed with deciet,
Sewn together by my own two hands,
My heart is something only I can fix,
Other people perform the surgery,
and leave it open, I'm the one thats taking the risk,
I force myself to close it again,
This time forever,
My heart is mine to mend,
Pick up the small shards of a glass heart,
Cutting yourself with every piece,
Let your crimson love, glue the pieces together,
Deformed and missshapened,
Your heart is scarred,
but at least its back together,
In the cold recesses of forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
yet another figured puzzle placed to solve the perplexd defines of the heart, thanks!