Rocks
by *saykhaWas there much pain
when they gave you rocks for hearts
Did it cut at you to take it
with cracks and broken parts
Did it sadden you to gaze
upon the debris in your hand
Did a passion birth that day
to save the heart of man
Did you raise your hand up high
to your head, that you may hear
the distant rhythm of the softest beat
weakened by all its tears
And did your heart cry out
You weren't created in vain
I'll give the same answer as you
when they ask, Was there much pain














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...DreamZ Are Designed.
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Oh and check out #Live-Love-Write's latest blog for the latest writing prompt
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Went there, faved it, checked prompt, will write
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BT.
"kitsch is the corpse left when art loses its anger"
— Robert Jesse Stoller
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Love me or hate me, I'm still gonna shine.
Carpe diem.
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Was there much pain
when stone-hard heart
struck hand and feet and side?
And jagged edges
deeply stuck
with sharp and pointed pride?
This rubble flung
falls at your feet,
such worthless travesty.
You take those
shattered pieces
and still turn kind eyes to me!
And as the blood
from all those wounds
seeps into jagged shale
a gentle pulse
begins to beat.
I finally inhale
a breath of life
into this soul
so long lost in blind shame.
You gather all my pieces in
and ask,
"Was there much pain?"
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Let me know if you object to me claiming this and posting it elsewhere, since its theme runs so close to yours, and I don't want to offend. If I do, I'll link back to yours because I think people will enjoy reading the two together.
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I TRADE LLAMAS!!!