A beating heart

Ripped and torn

With effort and desire

It, through, has been worn.

With a slash down the middle

Jagged and rough.

And a crack on the side.

Of this heart, oh so tough.

A hole on the left

Open and wide.

A gap on the right,

And a chink on the side.

A puncture on the top.

And a prick way down low.

The beating has softened,

The beating is slow.

The rip is from hate,

The tear is from jeers.

The effort and desire

Is peace towards peers.

The slash is from gossip,

The crack is from sadness.

The hole and the gap?

From the absences of gladness.

The puncture is lies.

The prick is from war.

The beating is gone.

The heart is no more.