February 22, 2011
–—–How My Heart Functions
a poem by David T Douglas
–—–
There’s razor wire ’round my heart for protection
There’s also a lock, awaiting the right combination
One day the lock must surely open
Or is that my heart futilely hopin’?
The lock cannot be pried, picked, or sliced
It’s not a game, though you could be diced
What’s needed is a gentle hand with the right touch
But maybe that’s asking for too much
Apparently, loving me is a tireless struggle
And I’m not worth all the trouble
That’s okay, I’m used to it now
But I remember one time how
She professed her love and promised to stay
Then with another she did stray
Now my heart has been nicked and is bleeding
But it has hope and will keep on beating
There’s also a lock, awaiting the right combination
One day the lock must surely open
Or is that my heart futilely hopin’?
The lock cannot be pried, picked, or sliced
It’s not a game, though you could be diced
What’s needed is a gentle hand with the right touch
But maybe that’s asking for too much
Apparently, loving me is a tireless struggle
And I’m not worth all the trouble
That’s okay, I’m used to it now
But I remember one time how
She professed her love and promised to stay
Then with another she did stray
Now my heart has been nicked and is bleeding
But it has hope and will keep on beating
