Thine Heart On Thine Sleeve

Her armour was invisible to the naked eye. She wore her bravery with dignity. Between her chest, black, hollow, vacant; no signs of an organism lived there.

The cages were barren, only her lungs breathed and filled the spaces. Each breath gave way to the life she always had in her. Oxygen could get through to her brain much easier this way. Each thought was fuelled passionately with every inhale. No strain. No irony. Just magic.

There was room. The beating drum was free. Free to Rome the fields. Free to love, free to fly, free to dance, free to be all the life-giving wonderment it could be.

It was alive. Alas, she was alive! No longer coped away and defined by the rest. “You must stay in here, you are bound by these courts!” No, she stood alone. Her thuds were valiant, her beats were set free; she was a wild heart.

Thine body did not realise thine strain on thine heart.

Caged away did nothing for the world. Finally unhinged, where better to express than on thine sleeve. There she smiled and she cried and she crashed and she burned and she laughed and she sang and she fought and she raged and she bled and she died and she lived and she survived.

Her rhythm in tune, in sync and to the beat; No better way to live than with thine heart on thine sleeve. No better way to live than with thine heart on thine sleeve. No better way to live than with thine heart on thine sleeve.

~ G

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