Mine Heart

Mine heart isn't made of glass; It isn't made of steel. For it's made of beating flesh— Warm, sentient, and real. It's its own planet within other worlds— Still, held on by their veins. From nightfall's pitch, its desire, torn— It lets go of its refrain. Where it knows there's an acheless dawn— For tendons that beseech (stay chivalrous) It will haunt like a lone wolf's song— You will know us.