Wounded Heart

I used to be a shallow heart, a twisted spine

swallowing all promises

Until my tongue turned black.

They don’t know you like I do.

A better liar, you talk

small, but breathe disaster,

with your clever words and phrases,

stinging hearts till they go numb.

I’m seven inches tall and

silence is my self- defense.

Never mind the mess you’ve made,

what matters is I’m trying.

To my wounded heart, I know

some things should just stay broken.

This is a part you portray,

like a toy soldier marching toward his shallow grave.

I really enjoyed the structure of this poem, so i decided to try to imitate it :P the title of the poem is the three words in bold towards the end of the piece.