This heart of mine is made of bruises caused by my own misperception. Although, I admired the transition of colors caused by every blow it took; crimson to indigo, indigo to ebony.
From every swing of frustration, every punch of trials, every flame of chaos, and every stab of deception left my heart beaten and exhausted.
I believe my heart died a long time ago.
Along with the other parts of me I used to have.
It was too damaged for me to try and save it.