A heart manages to beat,
steady,
as it turns cold, hard, metal.
Rust overtakes it's form.
It's old, and overused,
been continuously beaten and bruised,
and no longer knows the feeling of love.
With words etched, in the copper rust cover.
Statements, good and bad.
A majority of the latter.
The heart, was tired, and finally decided, that waiting for someone to fix it, would take too long.
So it cleaned itself off, and polished it's armor. It built itself up, and it's mood grew higher.
The heart became new again, now longer old, and kept the bad memories close, but learned from them instead of suffering from them.
Hello everyone. How are you doing? I hope you're having a good day, you deserve it.
Anyways, I just wanted to say that I won't be on for a few days until school again since I dropped my phone in water and it's current home is a bowl of rice.
I hope you all are well, stay strong butterflies ( thank you ButterflyAffect00), you're incredible people :)
YOU ARE READING
Nobody Was Meant to See
Poetry[Trigger Warning, please be safe when reading] They aren't supposed to know. They aren't meant to read these poems that I'm writing. I've concealed them for a reason. -Shitty poems about how I feel-
