The world a crazy place where hearts are stolen and made to race. They are made to speed, skip, break and tear. They are stolen when they are ripe and bare, Sometimes realising feelings that arent mutually there. And on catching those feelings, The levels hit the ceilings. It uses the warmth of the possibility to thrive, Oh and it feels like it’s never been so alive! And one fine day, this euphoric lift comes crashing down, A once red heart starts to feel a little brown. On the outside you’ll see nothing but an unfamiliar frown, But hearts, all they wanna do is drown. All they wanna do is drown themselves in misery, Swearing by the heavens that won’t ever let anyone cross this torn heart’s periphery.
-Reneé Sharma