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