19 May 2012
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.
Smiley-face Band-aids • Opuss № I