Heart

To control your heart, they say

You must first control your mind

Do not tell me I am a gift

When I have been wrapped and tucked away

Do not tell them I am a saint

For I rip the sins out of my mouth

They say the heart is a restless thing

An organ that beats to its own drum

Yet, I feel it's hollow music

And hear it's mournful cries

I pluck the strings in my ribs like a violin

And drink the blood that flows through my veins

Do not tell me I am a gladiator

Do not tell me I am the King

Do not tell me I am the monster

I am the heart.

I am a song.