About My Heart

Sometimes I wonder if my heart is as mechanical as a clock, ticking on steadily with no regard to anyone in 

particular.

Tick tock, time for school.

Tick tock, time to say hello.

Tick tock, let's put on a show.

Living is my favorite pastime. My personality description says I seek out sad things, but the truth is I just like to prod my heart into beating.

Tick tock, you're not allowed.

Tick tock, you're not enough.

Tick tock, you've got it rough.

And right now I'm stripped of all my rules and reasons, and I'm staring down my pen because it's a friend that betrayed me. Or maybe I betrayed my pen.

Tick tock, here's what you write.

Tick tock, don't put up a fight.

But then there's those times when I'm doubled over, clutching my belly and gasping for breath. My cheeks warm, and my eyes widen. I look at you. Staring at you, I wonder if I'd even be alive without you here.

Tick tock, this isn't right.

Tick tock, this isn't right. STOP.

Suddenly I'm reminded of a time not too long ago where everything had meaning. They tried to beat it out of me with their fluorescent lights that starve my face of color. I still remember what it felt like to be alive.

Tick tock, speak quietly.

There's some people I want to scream at--to shout in their face to get a reaction, just to see if they're alive. We're human, despite what the world says. You're human, at least.

Maybe I don't know anything.

I thank the stars every day that you exist. You're someone to rely on, because while I don't know how to say everything perfectly, you can teach me how. You have a real, human heart.

Tick thump, thump tock,

thump thump.