Break apart my heart of stone,
and tell me what you’ve found.
Is emotion there, or empathy
or a world beneath the ground.
Is passion there, and kindess,
or generosity,
or is this a word of sadness,
or a destitute man’s plea.
So open up my heart today, and break away the stone,
like the chiseling hands and the iron tool
of the stonecutter of old.
Just break it down, and look inside,
this refuge of despair,
for I much desire to find myself,
and know if life is there.
For many a pain have I endured, and I’ve built myself a wall,
and now I find myself in place,
where the bulwark has to fall.
So please break down my iron wall, my barrier so strong,
and disregard the flaming darts, or the raging, churning throng.
For they are placed there to decieve, and capture my poor soul,
they want to swallow up my love, like a ravenous black hole.
And magic or power of mortal men, cannot break down this wall,
only the power of one above, call cause this place to fall.
So you above, I ask you please, break up my heart of stone,
before I fall into despair, and am nothing left but bone.
Poetry
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