A Broken Mans Heart

The first rain drop of winter is broken mans tear
With his sickest known to be called as rare
The first breathe he takes he realizes
His life is full of ups and down like a kite
So he sits down, inhaling the fresh air
But notice his soul doesn't seem to be all there
Like a yearbook, his head is full of memories
All concentrating on her, with no boundaries
This is his first Ballad Poem, written in tears
Done with the help of his emotional fears
Blood vessels no longer pump in his heart
Only the memories of her pumps within his heart
Past love will someday run out in his system
Until that days come he will remain Heart Broken