My mind is like a Rubik’s cube

It’s all scrambled up

And only a few people can solve it

He put his heart on the poker table
‘he’s all in’ his face grim and unquavering, he thinks he’s able
but the cards are stacked against him
he plays all moves
but the joker beleaguers his fingers
they use his mind as a bullet practice board
wearing their bullet proof vest so they’re well protected
He’d been on a scorching quest for disaster
was given a tepid glass of love in return

They said his heart was a Rubik’s cube in a Swiss bank
so he pulled the funds out took the risk rather than being a *******
He spends his heart on love,
he realises its like a cigarette loaded with regret rather than nicotine  
so he took a cue,
formed his heart back to a Rubik’s cube
and put in a Swiss bank in the maze house

Gently scraping the adhering paper from the firm plastic, colorful cube
That beared a delicate weight in my soft, precarious pink hands,
I grasped the sticker and pressed it on my protuberant little veins--
“Innocence!” Clarence cried my misleading appellation,
“Are you cheating? You’re taking off the stickers, mindlessly relocating them
To unravel (or reassemble, rather) the poor little tormented Rubik’s.”
*“Nay, you fool. I’m just rearranging them so that no one can solve the puzzle.
I’m a sadist, not a fraud.”