The Battlefield of Love

The casualties of the heart On the battlefield of love Blood pools on the ground below and drips from the skies above. Memories fleeting as a broken heart beats with regret Survivors wear purple hearts To serve as reminders of the war, they can't forget And though some survive the war, the wounds inflicted remain, still. Post traumatic terrors invade, life a thief prying open a window gently at it's seal. These are wounds which no one speaks, And woe to those who declare Marked as crazy or unwarranted As if their wounds were never there And to those hearts lost as collateral damage unable to love anymore It is the greatest shame and loss to this world that a heart be so wounded, exploited an ignored....