I'm tired-

Of having to speak when no one else will.
Of having to put in all the effort when no one else will.

What do you see through those eyes glistening with tears?
I see a cadaverous heart, patched up many times, cursed and blackened.

When I go out in the streets
I feel alienated; people wearing their lovers like dashing accessories:
Hands around waists, hands intertwined.

And out of my extraterrestrial self
I misunderstand what the definition of love is.
Every time I try- I fail.
I fail to win the game of love, a deceiving checkmate, a cold-hearted stalemate.

But I'll try again.
Because wounds heal, with their time.
And whilst you think ahead, I look back.
And whilst you lift your chin, I'll sink mine down.

As a fragment of Joan of Arc
I will save my soul from invasion
I will tender that garden in my heart, plant new seeds of kindness and peace.

There will be little scars here and around my chest, but I will live on.