I left my heart on a subway bench. I’m in need of a transplant anyway. It’s hard to say If this incident was truly a mistake or something purposeful.
Maybe I just forgot to leave a note. “Free to a good home..”
It’s a ****** nest of faulty wiring. It’s as honest as a metronome but as chewed up as a stray.
I couldn’t sell it. I couldn’t give it away.
Reluctantly, I’ll drag it home on a leash. I’ll shove it back into the cage of my ribs and wait for another stubborn start. Guess I’ll have to jail it like some unwanted beast howling half-forgotten lines to pass the time;