I've got a handful of feelings
that have no meaning;
in context, they make no sense,
and are commonly much too extreme
for the situations at hand.
I've got a pocketful of star-crossed lovers
that have long since died out;
my mind keeps them alive,
an army of zombies resurrected
despite my fervent protests.
I've got a heart full of love
that I've been told is misplaced;
I do not have the capacity to hate,
even though I've been slighted
so many times.
Despite these heavy burdens I carry,
despite my breaking back
and buckling knees,
though they say I care too deeply,
I can never ever stop.
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