A broken heart is an ugly thing
All jagged and ripped and torn
It barely beats and keeps no rhythym
and holds weight that can scarcely be born.
A broken heart will brood in the dark
Guarding closely its sadness and shame
Not realising in its weakened state
The true beauty it yet retains.
But hearts will heal and the sun will warm
Your bones in their tired frame
To smile again and see once more
the hope that remains just the same.
So trust, my girl, trust my words
and those of your sisters true
that we, who walked in the dark before you
have survived and returned to bloom.
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