These pieces lay broken can you make out a heart?
It was given, then stolen, and slowly ripped apart
I tried my best to save it, but it’s a lost art
So fragile, rough handled, my poor broken heart.
It carried the tragedy of others so many I tried to fix
I didn’t realise my goodness was falling to bits
Now I’m just a lonely scarecrow left hoping for a new heart
It’s not a quick fix, this beauty doesn’t quick start
This heart is pure magic it’s worth it’s weight in gold
Can’t you see it beats clearly through stubborn and cold?
There’s pulses in pain but there’s goodness there still
This heart is for life it’s no cheap thrill.
Purity is rare, the rose comes with the thorn
This heart loves easily but it can burn and scorn
Be patient, I’ll fix it, for now let me mourn
Ice freezes but shatters in the warming of dawn.