I looked at myself and start to wonder,
Staring and studying myself in the mirror;
Eyes fixated to the scars on the bossom,
Ears listening to the beating of the heartly drum,
Nose smelling the pungent smell of impurities,
Lips smeared with lipsticks of curses and lies.
There seem to be no life,
No life at all. Just a body.
There's nothing to strive
For in it. No hopes. Just a body.
Cutting open the scars, chest open apart.
Shows a pale heart, thick with hair.
It reminded me of the prince who hid his heart,
He had found his heart in his lair.
Consuming back the drums of his life;
Overwhelmed with feelings and cried, taking away his life.
Should I be of the said prince?
The only difference would be of he,
Distached heart; mine beat old.
