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.
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