Thankful for my heart.

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My heart is fragile.
It's a curse, to have a heart with chambers drenched in sympathy,
Because my heart breaks a little every time I see someone begging for money, or an old man eating alone in a restaurant.
It breaks when I see someone helplessly sick, when I see a kid left out.
It breaks when I watch the news,
when I think of wars,
And when my friends get hurt from boys they love.
But also it is a blessing, to have a heart so alive and tender,
Because wherever I look,
I see beauty,
I see it in the creaks of walls,
And corners of old streets.
I see beauty in half moons and the bright sun.
I see it when sheers of rain pour down from the sky and when the sky is clear as a blank page.
I see it in random faces of people,
I see it where no one bothers to even look.
And then, I feel thankful for my heart.
That I can love and give,
That it's spontaneous and childlike.
And I hope that I will have it forever,
I hope the ugliness that passes by it won't blind it or turn it into stone.

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