Charred , shredded, scattered
pieces of love,
The heart would always retain
them
and discard them not,
even if they cut and lacerate,
Because even though broken,
they still reflect its soul,
Like Phoenix they will flower,
The raging fires of hate,
anger and fears will scorch
them,
But the crop of love
will rise from the ashes.
A heart would be no heart
if not for its essential core—love,
The latter might be broken
and shredded to pieces,
But it’ll triumph
and rise from fury and fire
to smile with refreshed ‘love’.
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