There was once a young man who had a nice heart,
It was all red, all pure and all of his own.
People admired it with great astonishment,
Admired its purity, its redness, all of its own.
But an old man came along,
His heart patched with reds, not all of his own.
People looked at him with disgrace and disgust,
And then was when the old man started to talk,
"You may have one red, one heart, and it all may be pure
But have you loved people and then them back in return?
Because its then when your heart becomes truly yours,
A heart of your own,
Patched with the hearts of your loved ones,
And wholes from the ones who haven't love back in return.
That's when your heart becomes your own,
And that's what people should see as beauty."
The young man's eyes were filled with tears
When he suddenly went over and hugged the old man.
He took the piece of his own heart and offered it to the old man,
The old man smiled and received it,
Giving him back a piece of his.
The young man smiled and finally said,
"Your heart is not nice, but beautiful."
