My heart is beating. Pounding. Breaking. Shattering the ice,
That incased it, soothed it, tamed it. Taught it to play nice.
My heart is thundering, breaking free of apathy’s cold hands,
And rising with a furious passion, to claim its own demands.
My heart is kind, strong and willing, but it’s a rebel heart all the same.
Unyielding to those things that laugh, and suggest it’s just game.
Getting lost in your own thoughts, a labyrinth of false truths,
That threaten, pet and snare the hearts of old men and fiery youths.
Angry now, this gentle heart, unpredictable and wild,
Seeing pain in too many eyes, seeing as a child.
Beating. Breaking. Too much taking, in this world we own,
Rebellious, vicious, cold, malicious, are these what we condone?
Beating colder. Getting older. Time likes to sooth with ice.
Hide the pain, in the mundane, and all that will suffice.
I may not have the strength to fix all that I see wrong,
I may not have the voice to drown out such an aching song.
I may not have the power to change the world … but then again,
The world can and will see change if we change the hearts of men.
So before I let apathy take hold. soothing, lying, taking,
I’ll reach deep and let the fire ignite. Changing. Beating. Breaking.
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