Black Heart of a Hopeless Romantic

          It is said that the heart can not be justified to it's actions, but only to it's nature. The nature is has grown accustom to. The Nature accredited to how it is loved and cared for. It is said that this heart on it's loneliest moments can be found at Broken Hearts Corner. The corner where it begins it's destruction, the same destruction that creates Cold Mornings. Those cold drops that we feel amongst our skin on those misty mornings aren't of rain from the heavens, but tears from the broken hearts that ravage the earth trying to find joy. Those Rain Drops Never cease the pain we feel. They just prolong the emotional state in which something stupid occurs and as it echoes through the body I Be Dreaming, dreaming of happiness, we continue to fall screaming can you Hear Me. But as we fall and fall, we find slight hope as our hearts beg the feeling to Wait 4 Me. The thrill of the moment we just seem to Love It. Loving the physical detailing, the touching, the love for the night. Soon we find out shes nothing more that a Party Girl, with normal ambition to get knocked and take it all, and live the ride. So what we once thought was, brings us back to the hour, the hour, the hour of up and down. The Twerk Hour. So as she does/ he does their thing you rush home from your polly movement to leave your Rotten Gift Bag. May they accept the hatred built up over time, the same hatred that brought upon the  Date of Depression. So as that bright, caring red heart endures all of the pain, the shock, and disbelief it turns numb, and cold. It becomes Heartless, it becomes a case of a Hopeless Romantic. As that individual stares into Mirrors of Pain. Over the wild of the night we hear the houls toward the moon, of the heartless, the cold, the souls lost in love and life.......................................

By:

Plymouth da Phoenix