Disclaimer Ė Not. Mine.
This is in answer to a challenge proposed by the Dead Poet's Sisterhood to record the reaction of a character upon learning about the President's M.S.
From the moment I met him
I gave him my heart and he gave me his
Maybe that why Iíve always been so fascinated by other peopleís.
I heal hearts
I take them in my hands
I make them whole.
The mind is something else entirely.
It twists, and bends, and snaps
And cowers from deep within incurable madness.
His comes from the inside
Mine from the outside
It will consume his beautiful wit
Shroud his eyes with a veil of dark confusion
And destroy me in places it is not supposed to be able to go.
So we sit here together
Silent, save our desperate heartbeats echoing in a small office
Cold enough to freeze our souls
Iím a doctor so I know
Ultimately, the heart exists
To serve the mind.
A heart gives until it dies and is happy to do it
But what happens when a mind no longer cares
About any heart?
Does it keep beating?
Does it weep?
Can it love on its own?
How am I supposed to fix his mind
While my heart is broken?
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