I have read of people with hearts made of ice.
They shatter, freeze again, and go on.
My heart is made of fire;
It burns with every moment,
Every second an inferno.
But some things are too much
For a heart such as mine.
Every moment, every tragedy,
Every second of sorrow,
Freezes out the flames, and
Shatters them, and
My heart is made of glass,
And I’m left to pick up the pieces.
My heart is cold;
It is frozen over,
Like the walls of
Brick of sorrow, mortar of tears,
And my heart is made of ice.
Blessed be to all. We will survive. We sleep tonight to wake tomorrow to fight another day.
madranchwife 