My heart is heavy, and I can't put it down,
So I hold it in my hands, It's rotten, and perhaps disgusting,
But it's mine, so I cradle it between my fingers,
Gently, hoping it would stop bleeding,
But it keeps on bleeding and bleeding and bleeding,
And the smell of decay engulfs me.
My heart is heavy, so I try to put it down,
Coat it in dust, bury it deep within the ground,
Somewhere it will stop hurting,
But even the soil doesn't want it,
It spits it out without even chewing, as if the organ had grown poisonous,
As if the ground was worried the rot would spread,
And every living thing will be left decaying, and rancid, and dead.
My heart is heavy, so I give it you,
I remember it was filled with love, and light, and joy once,
But it's not anymore,
Now it holds grief, and despair, and dread about everything that exists, and everything that doesn't,
So you tell me to keep it to myself,
But my heart is heavy and I can't put it down.
-Me