you (an intentionally bad poem, indicated primarily by its centeredness)
i gave you my heart
like violets on a summer's day
like a baby bird so small
that it could not even fly away
and under the trees green
you took me to places i had never seen
and you were as warm as the sunshine
that gives such warmth to the grass so fine.
but the children still cried
for their lack of hunger and a loaf of bread
because of people who don't care if they live or die
and it doesn't make a difference to them if they're dead.
you took my heart in your hands so strong
but then you left it on the porch
to just get cold and wet, and you didn't care,
like those people who are burned by a hot torch.
don't you see what you are doing
to the children who are so hungry and cold
and as i am growing old
and loneliness that is so dark and cold