Smiley-face Band-aids

The heart is a magical thing
But fragile, I must say.
Our feelings reside in there
In their touchy-feely way,

And when they take a little turn
They make us feel all blue
Like smurfs, the sky, the ocean
Or, very rarely, a blue moon.

Our hearts begin to break away
And tear themselves apart,
Crucifying themselves
Perhaps for something they didn't start,

Or picking at themselves
For something ruined, something lost,
Programmed into self-destruct
At our own steep, personal cost.

When hearts are victimised like this
It's a very tragic thing.
They lose their way, forget about joy,
How to skip or dance or sing.

But these magical hearts can regenerate
Though it might take a while,
You can always patch them up
With a little smile.

So when you feel your finished
Catch your teardrops in your palm,
Find yourself a little jar
And giggle, if you can,

Then put those teardrops in the jar
And set them all aside,
So one day you can look at them
And wonder why you cried.