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 intentions 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.