Call me a bleeding heart.
It’s true: My heart bleeds.
It is not made of stone,
nor even of ice,
that it takes much to melt.
Misery will do.
And the misery of others
is the misery of all.
As we dog paddle to keep our
heads above the water, and
we step on someone else’s
head so we can stay on top,
we try so hard not to
look behind us, or to the side…
And now our minds are in
a virtual movie, trapped
in little boxes, far far from our hearts…
and our hearts get harder
to hear, and we don’t
remember our hearts,
so how can our hearts
bleed?
We are not made of stone.
september 2010
:Victorials: 