The Heart

The heart is a liar, it makes you believe Any number of stories, perchance to deceive A teller of tales, a false raconteur An emotional hijacker, down to the core Unruly, ill-tempered, and like a small child It’s hard to control, and often runs wild You see what is not, and you trust what you feel And after a while, you’re unsure what is real The heart is a demon, a mischievous imp It parcels you out, like some sort of pimp A cheater, a thief, it will have its way Misguiding, dividing, consuming its prey Spoiled and selfish, unfettered, untamed It causes much trouble, and others are blamed So do not believe it, and give it no chance To catch you off guard, and ask you to dance