It’s the heart of the matter

In these cold hearted days.

To a dear heart missed

Or a sweet heart gaze.

Where kind hearts weep at many dark tales,

And strong hearts wrestle with balancing scales.

Loud hammers pound as bad hearts curse,

Yet terrible words a love heart can nurse.

While broken hearts lie strewn where they fell,

Warm hearted folks collect oil in deep wells.

But silent hearts utter no word or sound

And dead hearts leave their clothes hanging round.



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