Hearts In Humans

There is this thing in the human body it is supposedly called a heart but it seems more often than not a cruel torture device, to tear us apart for it is a jealous thing and wants what often it loses always wanting something back but is left on wires with burnt out fuses that can only create tiny sparks that never seem to last long and always it seems when night rolls in it is then we find them gone. We are forced to spend forever searching for the one thing it wants forced to obey the heart we are desperate ghosts of ourselves we will haunt for the mirror reflects another someone we do not remember we wish we knew who they were but we forgot them in December. They forgot us like the snow is forgotten by the days of May the human heart will beat its rhythm and we in our broken dismay; continue like the puppet on the strings of the puppeteer we follow wherever they lead, and in the reflection slowly we disappear.