damnant quod non intelligunt

My heart is not mine

The pieces that I give away they break Or it is lost, maybe nonexistant. So many think I’m the one. I’m not. I’m better off with just myself, no one seems to get that. I seem to lash out at the things closest to me. They return with the hopes that I will make it better, but I don’t. So I refuse, and they turn away taking that piece of my heart that I gave.