My heart lies open like a worn-out book,
pages torn and aged, meanings mistook.
We as humans get our hearts torn to pieces;
as days and nights go by, a part of us deceases.
We all are such creatures with so many feelings,
in everyday acquaintances, in all business dealings.
Our minds seem to ebb and flow like the oceans’ tides,
yet we all have our limits to what helps keep us alive.
There are times the damage can feel like life ending,
no way of salvation, no way we can start mending.
It resonates, deep down past our hearts into our souls,
leaving us wide open and vulnerable, impossible to console.
We patch and we mend like we are stitching a wound;
it’s painful without dumbing, like a singer out of tune.
Some of these never heal; they fester inside our minds,
fighting, struggling to climb out, but no exit we can find.
As we grow older, our hearts have been forever scarred,
some so much that it feels as if we’ve played the wrong card.
The damaged souls we are have weathered many storms
to the point of deep depression; it’s become our daily norm,
making it hard to trust one another from years of uncertainty.
None of us wanted to be this way, but it’s what our minds need.