My heart was stolen against my will,
To a jester's hand who laughs and jeers.
"Who are you to own a heart without love and compassion? And whose to say you're lonely heart has promise in the end at all?"
I jump and reach, frustrated at such games,
But the jester yet smiles and sits on his high perch.
As if in a cage fit for a bird, he holds my heart in glee.
I have a key, but no knowledge if it could open the cage.
I have no bravery to use it, for what if he's right, and my heart isn't worth it? I could go living without, I'll be fine and no heart to regret losing now.
But something holds me back, a premonition.
That life without a heart isn't a life to be worth living.
I'm stuck on my way, no way to choose.
Like a coward I sit contemplating, all the questions that deserve there own say.