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HELP!
Heart beats breaking out of my chest; I am a young heart with an old soul, but my heart's now a relic from the many arrows Cupid shot me with so what's Zest to a burnt out core?
These days I find myself on the verge of giving up; my heart's hanging by a thread it's amazing just how I make it through some days, I tried to find myself countless times but the image in my mirror does not reflect me.
I used Poetry as a scape goat to get away with many a thing I cannot bring myself to saying out loud but these days I try to find solace in a mat; 64 squares in which sometimes I am white and on others I am black, an inscrutable dyad one might say.
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