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My Poor, Glass Heart
My poor, glass heart
has been jumbled around,
insulted, kicked.
It has been dented,
chipped, flicked.
What's more, is that
it has been left
lying on the floor.
Stepped upon, stomped,
bruised all over.
It's as though I
carry an unlucky clover.
So, please, I beg you!
Be careful with
my poor glass heart;
I fear even just one
more hurt will
tear it apart.
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I wrote this poem one day because I was rather upset over some betrayal and broken-heartedness.