Heart of Gold

A heart of gold, I’m told.

Too bad I can’t sell it.

It is a heavy heart, breaks me apart.

Difficult to carry.

A possessive, possession that I possess.

How did I acquire such a thing?

I am nothing special.

Nothing extraordinary.

Just incomplete.

Always a penny short.

A day late past the due date.

An unprepared human at best.

With a silly, golden heart.

Not a put together, cookie cutter,

Ironed out, dream.

A beautiful picture of perfection.

That‘s a hand I’ll never hold.

No privilege in my back pocket.

My shade of white is invaluable.

Poor and undeserving.

Similar to the gold I carry around,

it has proven to be quite useless.

But just as heavy.

My burdens to bear.

I have myself to thank.

For I am the master of my fate.

The founder of my misfortune.

The creator of my negative balance.

I owe the world more than it owes me.

Misguided.

Misunderstood.

Mistaken.

Taken for granted.

Lost in the world.

Lost in the search.

A search for a man.

Not just any man, but a metal one.

A hollow tin one.

The one that needs a heart.

He’s in luck.

I’m told mine is made of gold.