Shattered Porcelain

He'd made believe his heart's in strain,

enweaved in grief that beating shard of porcelain.

It had seen nothing but faint feral feign

in the eyes of wicked, cheating men

with whom he'd lain,

to whom he had submitted,

.

Yet despite the strife, the ruin

The heart left a clue in

"You're still sullen, seeing seething red,

But know that it remains, a shred of my thread,

and remain it will, until I'm beaten dead."

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