my heart does not work in the way that i'd like.
ask me if i am able to love myself,
and the answer will be "no"
even though i know that i should say "yes"
because i am blessed with the life i do have,
though it may at times hurt like cracked, bleeding anything
all just in need of repair.
i have nothing to fix it anymore...
i've used up everything,
and my heart beats abnormally;
beating for those who don't deserve it,
for those who've hurt it-
i still somehow find it racing,
jumping out of my chest just yearning for some other heart,
one that is more stable, and constant.
one that is not held together by thin weaves of thread,
and rusted staples that can't stay clasped shut for much longer.
no,
my heart does not work in the way that i'd like.
it is broken.
it is beaten.
and it is stupid,
but i am still capable of love,
and it may go to the wrong people,
but better wrong than none at all.