And in times,
People were using your heart just like a toy.
Tossing it around,
Not caring too much if it might break under the pressure
Of kicking it with their feet.


Oh,
And they took your feelings along with it,
So you were left like a cracked open nutshell.
But would it hurt less if they let you keep them?
You are dying to know and you wish
You could rip your heart into a million pieces by yourself,
Just to see and maybe understand,
Why they enjoy to do it so often.

-Eunice Adewole