"Here is the beating of his accursed heart!" - A Telltale Heart, Edgar Allen Poe.
This is my heart
beating inside in my chest,
letting me feel what I would not like to feel,
nor would it let me rest
This is my heart
still beating in my chest.
Even after I locked away
the parts that made me weak
a long time ago,
they still come back-
painful memories,
and broken dreams.
This is my heart
still beating in my maximum security prison.
Don't let anyone through,
don't let anyone see
me cry.
No one sees me lie.
This is my heart
still keeping me alive.
An existential crisis,
questioning why I'm here.
Why do I not leave?
This is my accursed heart
making sure I'm human.
Letting me feel things I don't want to feel.
Letting me hide pieces of myself.
Letting me cut pieces of me that no one would ever think to look and tell
others that I was weak,
that I was led,
that I was a misguided, masked storm.
