My heart’s stuffed with hot pieces
Of coal, it beats feebly the stitches
Keeping it together being worn
Frightfully thin, scared it’ll be torn.
It does still beat though in fierce
Defiance, seldom makes a fuss
Or a feat to capture my waning
Attention, guess it’s befitting
Only and solely to me, a component
Centrally vital to survival to be kept in mint
Condition, so why my dearest heart
Though art an assemblage of ****
Lime like angst, frustration and raw anxiety?
I implore thee to practise some emotional sobriety.