My heart,
like an infant child,
fragile.
Handled in the wrong way,
easily broken and disturbed.
Crying out when in need.
But unlike a child,
my heart does not find help.
Why is my life such a mess?
Like a child's messy room,
almost impossible to clean.
But not impossible, it can be fixed.
I am not sure how,
but I will make it through.
I hope.
*~I don't know what to do with this poem...someone help...PLEASE!~*
