My heart is like a pencil case.
It's smooth and easy to hold.
It's passed and thrown around the world.
Inside is a whole different story.
People place uncapped pens, scissors, and sharp pencils.
Every time my heart gets passed on, the inside gets scratched.
These scars are uneraseable.
The only part I can control is the zipper.
Hands that are gentle can open my heart all the way.
Take out the scissors and cap the pens.
For every good though, there is a bad.
That's when the zipper gets stuck,
Only to be passed on again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem