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Sep 2019
Blood leaks to the ground
dropplets of red stains
the complexion of my words
For a heart was worn out
on sleeves for those it loves

To some it was like a scrub rag
used to wipe up pain as a rebound
To others it was a game of ping pong
played with out of sheer boredom
A few kept it close to there reach
just in case they run out of options

So excuse these eyes for analysing,
they haven't seen genuine intentionsΒ Β 
towards this fragile heartstrings
that keep on playing a heartbeat
of senerades for those whom it has feelings
This is a poem that in reality describes how my heart actually is and how I been treated.  Yet still no matter how bad I am hurt I keep on wanting others to be happy.
Written by
Darren C Swartland  25/M/South Africa
(25/M/South Africa)   
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