LET YOUR HEART BE SPRING AGAIN

Silent nights laying waste to a parade of sorrow

 

Line the edges of my tattered heart,

Gripping the handlebars

And siding with the paperweight keeping me grounded.

 

They say dreams aren't meant for reality,

 

But I refuse to believe the frigid whisper beating

Out of the rough breath

Escaping from your lungs.

 

Your heart becomes cold and hard

When dreams don't flourish,

Blooming in the desert.

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