Life isn't about healing wounds,
It is about healing hearts,
When all that fills us up,
Starts to shatter into bits and parts.
When our bodies decay,
And it eventually will,
We sit by the window sill,
Looking out and see the beauty,
The beauty of the night,
The blinding specks of light,
The stars that barely gets noticed.
When our bodies decay,
We go to doctors,
Not because we want to be fixed,
Because we prevent our dreams,
Like flying in a rocket,
from dying with us.

Life isn't about healing wounds,
It is about healing hearts.
We may witness people losing limbs,
But when they lose their spirit,
Their soul,
Their purpose,
That is when their heart is weakest.
When our bodies decay,
and it eventually will,
When we can't move,
And all we do is sit still,
If our heart keeps beating we're still alive
And you might think it's how to survive,
But fact is that the essence of feelings,
Come straight from the heart.
A mothers sight of her baby,
A fathers arms holding his baby.

Life isn't about healing wounds,
It's about healing hearts,
When our hearts is tainted,
with the venomous words,
that somehow tattooed and painted,
into our being.
Infectious words,
spoken on how weird we are,
or how dumb we are,
or how ugly we are,
or even how lonely we are.
Our hearts become corroded,
pieces of what they use to be,
for when a body is poisoned
it only dies when the heart does.

Life isn't about healing wounds,
It is about healing hearts.