My Heart(Like Bloody Carnations)

Sometimes I wonder what the real purpose of having a heart is...

It's my heart.

You know,

The thing beating in my chest?

It wants the freedom,

Of all the rest.

It can see my future,

Even if it's not the best.

It just sits there all day

Setting me on my way.

It's the strangest thing,

These strange temptations.

They bloom

Like bloody carnations.

Whether it's for the better,

Or for the worst,

Most of the time

It's an endless curse.

It finds "love"

It finds "fear"

And it finds these,

Accompanied by tears.

Why happiness is its acquittance,

I'll never know.

But my heart,

Is surely here to help me.

Maybe one day it will see,

That it should really let me be.