Inside my chest lies an anomaly,
An anatomical wonder;
Inside me lives my triangle heart,
Ever torn asunder.

No rounded edges has my soul,
'Cause chafers gon' chafe;
It beats irregular the time,
Like constant battle strafe.

Often dead my heart's become,
Silent as the grave;
Resuscitated by the shock,
Its walls have nearly caved.

No weather wears the pointy ends,
And no waves caress the stone;
My heart lies cold and rough within,
Pleased to be alone.

No harm has knocked upon its doors,
Nor has its core been touched;
Indeed, my heart has felt no warmth
Since you replaced its flesh.