The Tender Heart
What is this thing called love? As a child I believed it to be unbreakable,
solemn and sacred, something that lasts. Yet it is not that simple, There
are those who will tear at the tender heart, but survive we do, learning to
hide our love away. Some escape to that place of dreams, where the world
is fair, and love doesn't hurt. Here the darkness divides the day, and evil is
the fallen good. One night I looked up and the stars looked back and said,
believe in the magic of the summer skies, believe in the magic in a young
girls eyes, believe in the magic that the soul survives, and in that lost
childish belief, of a love that cannot be broken!
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