When the heart migrates, no one can know, nor can one appreciate, a place it will go. As pain and anger, consume that poor soul. Broken hearts-one endangered, is what "someone" stole. Striped of its standard; the heart-lost love. A broke-heart is hard; it's like a dead dove. A dove any day, is beauty in the sky. Broken-heart, the other way, make you wanna die! A life-time of pain, is hard to bear. Dead-love makes for insane; no more: love-you dear! Stripped of its light, where do broken hearts go? This an un-manned flight, hence no one knows.