The Heart

A poem I wrote long ago

A vessel, full of hope, joy, love, compassion
Now is utterly decimated and blackened.
This passionate object, a person of its own,
Only to be crushed and bruised yet again.
This brave warrior fights and fights, not knowing
That if fights a losing battle to reality.
It sees the greatest desires a person knows
But lacks the means to make them truths.
For one that can teach so much good,
It fails to see how the world truly works.
It leads us to fantasies unknown, to
Believe we can achieve if only we have faith.
It never delivers though, the dreams fade
Like a flame, a chasing after the wind.

For you see, the heart only desires good
For you, to give you love and happiness.
It is misled, however, and leaves a trail
Of carnage in its wake for the brain to sort.
Eventually, the disaster is too much; the heart
Blackens, and learns to love no more.