A poem from my heart

I wrote a letter with my hands that was supposed to be from my heart. (1)

I am talking to myself. (2)

On the page words spilled freely as if I was bleeding instead of drawing up a boring old chart. (1)

I'm going crazy.(2)

Yet as I looked and I read and I pondered, a question rose up in my head. (1)

It cant be...(2)

How can these words be read or spoken by someone who's already DEAD? (1)

How could I? (2)

Even though my soul lives on, my body moves forward and my words are spoken... (1)

no... (2)

My lonely heart refuses to beat because it thinks it's BROKEN. (1)

I refuse. (2)

All the fools come up and say to listen, TO LISTEN, TO LISTEN! (1)

ok... (2)

But a fickle heart such as this refuses to be outspoken.(1)

I get it. (2)

My lonely heart in a sea of people will not call out for it fears (1)

so long (2)

that what it thinks are beautiful words like feathers, will instead be like shears. (1)

good bye (2)

They say there are two types of people, but really there are four billion;
it is hard to fit in or be special, when you are just one in a million. (1)


wait (2)


I'm tired of all this waiting, I'm sick of all this listening.
I'ts time to join mind, body, and spirit,
AND LET ME DO THE TALKING! (1)

My heart does not soar, or take me to higher places.
let my words and my actions be united,
so that I can face all of these faces!
Butterflies begone! I'll not participate in heart races! (1)

I'm back. (2)

My heart can say what it wants now, and I won't take it for granted
but now it is inside of me, where nobody will hear it!
I will not let my emotions get the better of me,
or make a *snap* judgement! (1)

Thank you. (2)

My body is a temple, and a spirit dwells within it.
my heart is not a heavy gold, black and lifeless, or cold.
because my heart is made of diamond, a bigger carat.
no matter how you slice it, mine will never be broken. (1)

Amen. (2)