I Am Expendable - 01/06/12

To your cause,

to your charity,

to your favored function

did I donate one heart.

I had no spare change,

nor moving words,

nor great leadership,

nor fame to bring others' word.

But in a crevasse in my chest,

in a hallow, dark, and lonely nook,

I had one heart

that beat,

erratically sometimes,

slowly other times,

barely on occasion.

It was rickety and strange,

not red and blue like most hearts,

but purple and salmon,

faded and weather-worn

from being worn too openly.

It had never been a strong heart

- and now shall never have the chance to be -

but it was a dedicated heart.

Right to it's core,

the way many present themselves,

it could pick itself up

and fake a beautiful smile.

That heart would tear out its own aorta,

wrap it with a bow made of its own veins,

and give it to you.

So to your team, I gave a heart

that would care for you,

that would nurture you,

that would ignore its own shaky existence

to provide.

I asked for nothing in return for the donation,

not a tax write-off,

not a pat on the back,

not even a thank you.

And to me you owe nothing.

To that heart, however,

the bleeding, rickety, unstable heart

that has become abused

and withered in your care,

you owe,

at the very least,

a debt of thanks

and the tiniest hint of affection.

Yet what has been proven is the following:

there are other hearts in the world,

and other hearts at your disposal.

There are other mothers,

there are other captains,

there are other eccentric young ladies

with strange hearts

and free time

and much more sanity than I.

I am expendable.

Replaceable,

changeable,

non-unique.

Hearts are cheap,

plentiful,

and, as this organization expands,

more readily available.

I am expendable.

Three years of love,

devotion,

dedication,

and insanity.

For what?

To be told that any other heart

could fill the valves.

I am expendable.

I am expendable.

I am expendable.