I put the broken pieces of my heart
Into a dish of diamonds and gold charred.
But metal is no match for flesh
And hearts don’t need a fancy dish
So now I hold them gently though I smart.
The pain’s familiar yet it seems more raw.
A tiger scratching me with sharpened claw.
Oh.god give me grace today
For I cannot pray.
And death hangs with its huge open maw
How my heart sings 