My heart.
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After not only living through but maintaining a strong sense of moral fortitude when you’ve been through what I have been through…this comes to mind…
Why must that hammer
beat so relentlessly on my heart.
It is not yet spent
but I worry for its endurance.
With each strike
I wonder at my resilience.
Bruised, beaten, all-the-worst
for this appallingly endless emotional smithy
For while this kind heart
still follows its wounded rythm
I contemplate
just what is meant to be forged…
