With its open maw

I put the broken pieces of my heart
Into a dish of gold and diamonds hard
But metal is no match for flesh
And hearts don’t need a fancy dish
So now I hold them gently, though I smart.

The pain’s familiar yet it seems more raw.
Like tigers scratching me with sharpest claws.
Oh.god give me some grace today
For as it is I cannot pray.
And death hangs over with its open maw

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About Katherine

I like art, poetry,history, literature,cooking,doing nothing to music.And conversation
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