By JH Sayyar
O weary heart, so burdened and so bruised,
By storms of sorrow and by tempests tossed,
So oft betrayed and so constantly misused,
Each throb a tally of what my love has cost.
You gave warmth to those who gave you cold,
You sang in hope, though silence was your due,
You offered truth, and lies were what you told,
Yet still you beat, so steadfast and most true.
Poor heart, you wander fields where thorns arise,
Yet seek the rose, though petals cut your skin;
You bear the weight of dreams and broken skies,
Still opening gates where pain comes rushing in.
Ah! Yet in your ache, a quiet grace is shown
The strength to love, never love you've known.
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