By: Tracey Lynn Rose

Worn out from the struggle,
Tattered with strain;
Lethargic with stress,
And heavy with pain;

In weariness, it beats,
In betrayal, it bleeds;
Robbed of the love,
And the life that it needs.

Once open with trust,
Now shuttered with pride;
Once shining with light,
Now withered inside.

Bereft of all feeling,
In silence it cries.
You call out in vain,
As you watch while it dies.

It's slowing, letting go,
So soon she'll forget;
She looks into your soul,
And she sees your regret.

Crumbling with hopelessness,
Your regret is too late;
Too destroyed from the time,
To strengthen with hate.

Too late to, once more,
Try a new start;
It's a tired kind of love...
and a tired, dying heart.