My heart is not a playground. I decided,
and proceeded to burn it to the ground.
I’d rather feel the lick of the fire than
the pain of feeling like a pawn in a pre-decided game. My heart
is not a playground, it’s not timid, tame. It’s not a picture
you can put in a frame.
My heart is not a playground, and yet
you seem to like moving things around. Making it
your home, putting your throne
throwing away all I’ve worked for and felt proud of.
My heart is a battlefield, and I will fight to death
to preserve every beat and every sound.
My heart is not a playground.