My Heart

A bifurcated tree is a heart.

Scars in plethora 

Swing in one branch 

In the gale of life. 

I feel acute pain 

And demand euthanasia, 

But life with all smugness 

Dismisses my plea.

Time vows to bring change 

And emptiness awaits flowers 

On another branch 

And with silent lips, 

I allow oxygen to breathe 

For its existence.