The Heart is a Burden
Like a stone to my feet
It lies to me so
and yet on it must beat
A thing of pure torture
which I must endure
Like the stab of a knife
or the slam of a door
It whispers sweet words like the serpent of Eden
That one day I too may share in life as heaven
It spits out these words like an old fortune teller
yet they’re merely a farse, like a snake oil seller
It consumes me of hope, like the bite of a tick
it purges my mind with its cruel, suttle trick
and I, foolish one, am to naive to see
how my heart, like a demon, is torturing me
It builds up my hopes, like an ivory tower
then dashes them down, and turns sweetness to sour
my friends it abandons, my hope it betrays
it leaves all my dreams and my wants in cold graves
And so, like a devil, my cruel heart doth laugh
at the pain that I feel at the next, spellbound trap
consumed by the feeling of want and despair
I hope that someone soon will come to find me there
But until that time happens, and until that time comes
I’ll find myself now so desperate and numb
a cold, lonely servant of a master so cruel
as a heart without reason, and I, it’s old tool
Poetry
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