The heart is a gift, first and foremost the gift of life, it is also the gift of time,
when no clock is around there is still one tic tac so you know time is still happening,
It is the gift of love, not because it creates the feeling,
but because of the butterflies and the violent beat, the blushing, the pale smile, the red lips, the cold feet.
The heart is a burden, the burden of living because none of us decided that, it is the burden of sorrow, of the red eyes and the bloody fists, and the red rage.
The heart is not a light thing to have.
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