A passionless heart

is no heart at all. Where was I when my world came to fall? In my youth it was nothing to cry for but in these reminders of my emptiness I weep. Blankly I make my way through all of these lonely crowded places, no questions asked with no story to tell. All is meant well, but perhaps our good intentions destroy us in the very end. I've got nothing to offer except for myself and nothing to give but obedience. Where is father time taking me, I can't help but beg "Are we there yet?" Because even with no mind to the destination, I wait and pray for the journey to end.

Happiness of all of yours in mind, but where is mine? Passion for this self destructive willing slavery ruins and wastes all of my time. Every second passing, I think of some one else and every minute I hope to please, but I see so much of so many others, I never stop to think of me. A strong little she, so pathetic indeed, you'd think she might never find her way. But she's abrupt in her ways and before you notice, she's gone from infant speak to Hemingway. Please, "don't tread on me," I've got nothing to give you and no patience left in me. I'm sorry to disappoint but so glad to be free. No chains and no boundaries, always but now you can see. I've missed myself so, and all I want is me. And now the lights that have sparkled in my head are shining so bright for myself to feel.