THE TOOLS

You think your heart’s your own,
to lay down like a red chip, 
to share or not share. 
But it isn’t your own, 
it will never be your own. 
It belongs to whoever can win it, 
to whoever can keep it. 
It belongs to whoever has the tools 
to break inside your chest and 
take the red right out of you. 

Peregrine @   Your Eyes Blaze Out