The less of me I give
The more you talk
The less I speak.
Yet I have life to give
And things I want to say
But I’m unwilling to fight
Against the current
To share any of it.
I am greedy with myself.
I hold onto pieces of me
Like they are the last
Dying embers,
And most of the time I feel
As though that’s exactly what they are.
If I give you this piece of my heart
Will I turn into stone?
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