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Heartbeats in the palm of my hand

With two fingers down my throat I purge my heart out. As it keeps beating, and I hold it in my hand, I can realize that I am alive, so I put it back in there again. Even though I can, vaguely, feel it, it is hard to know for sure that it is actually there. So I pick it out, and put it back, and pick it out, and put it back. It never ends, and all they tell me is to name the monsters in my head. Are they talking about me?



Poetry by kristallkross
Read 701 times
Written on 2007-11-01 at 20:27

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ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Well writan , my British sence of houmer made me choke on the title , could be a doblue meenaning , lol, tho , now i need 2 clean my screan of tea . lol .

Ken D Williams
2007-11-01