If hearts are made to beat then why do they
So frequently succumb to static deaths?
Why should this rhythmic beast become the prey
And leave us engineering loveless breaths?
Has Cupid's arrow not in fact amassed
A heap of punctured flesh that slowly rots?
These vessels of the deep are thus harassed
By bows that loose their bolts with deadly shots.
With little thought we sow the yearly corn -
With flighty minds, we saunter through the mist.
We often do not think when dreams are born
And so we wake to find ourselves adrift.
The beauty of the moon is pocked with scars;
A healthy heart and love lie worlds apart.
Ben, not sure what else I can say that hasn't already been said. Your amazing words always create such a masterpiece! And your rhyming is wonderful- you'll never be out of a job ;) I was going to copy and paste my favorite lines but then realized I would have just copied the whole thing lol.