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A paper heart
torn and tosssed,
a paper heart stained red
folded into a box.
A paper heart blown in the wind
free to fly, the world its prison.
A faded heart with no ear to listen

The world burns,
in search the paper heart turns.
Over and over with different shades,
each dawn it comes to rest.
Each dawn wishing to change its stars.
Nightall with a dream it leaves,
for in the new dawn it may be blessed.
A paper heart
torn and tossed,
A paper heart with no rest.

Fly, fly paper heart
rest in me this day.
For you each day
I have prayed.
Leave tomorrow,
Again i shall start
looking for my paper heart.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Last few words: 
I always just loved feelings in words. spelling and style ill work on.
Editing stage: 


I think I got the gist of it all, but it is so unique, so "out there" I'm not at all sure. Probably the most original sounding thing I've read in a while.
Still some typos, but not near as many.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Thank's Wesley, this poem simple ontop but
underneath lots happening, its been awhile since ive written,
working on those typos. will rectify them.

Again many thanks for your input.


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