She holds out her heart
It drips on her shoe,
Her eyes tell so much,
Of the guilt and rue
Of the somber nights
Of the tainted dreams
When she covers her ears,
So she won’t hear the screams.

She holds out her heart
Her fingers unsure
Whether to be gentle
Or as vile as it were
Her hands they shake,
As she offers it all,
The weight becomes unbarring,
As she lets it fall.

She holds out her tongue
In disgust of the matter,
That lies on the floor
Staring back at her
In her petite little voice
Lacking anything old,
She turns away quite roughly
“Next is my soul…”