In a container made of gold I store the pieces of my broken heart sometimes I take them out and stare at the chunks that once been a whole this mess is the same mess that once loved once felt pain but now all it is , is a pile of flesh broken flesh that can’t be fixed why do I keep it in a container made of gold that I do not know it just seems like the right thing to do don’t you think I was a good person my heart was warm and forgiving but solitude and loneliness turned it bitter , spiteful, and cold revenge and deceit had broken it into there is nothing left that I can do except place in to a container made of gold
Reason for writing:
my father he said some old saying a heart made of gold i dunno know :)
Birth sign: Aries
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