Tugged and Torn

Standing on a street corner, 
with the song playing as our faded lullaby. 
And I never would have let you, 
if you didn't already have my heart inside a glass jar on your shelf.
So I came, like a thief in the night to come and steal it away. 
I just came to see you, to see if I could take it home with me today,  
to keep you from stealing anymore beats of this broken heart. 
It flutters and it rests and rises 
--because of you it darts in this direction and that.  
And I'm torn, my little heart is scarred and scared. 
How do I tell the world I lost it?
My own heart. 
Will anyone believe me when I tell them it's not mine?
How do I tell them I committed such a crime?
You tug and you take, 
and told me that this wasn't wrong. 
But how will I stand to lose you?
You can't keep it forever, this little heart of mine, it has a place that it belongs. 
So when will you give my heart back to me?
You can borrow it for awhile love of mine. 
But the truth is, 
I need it back in time. 
For as it tugs and it tears and tethers strong, 
it lives in my chest, 
and it doesn't do well being strung along. 

--But this is just another autobiography, examining the prosopography of me.
By: Emma Marie.