My heart, you are a fool, as you can't think,
These butterflies can survive for few days,
Praise their vibrant colors, but you talk about the dust,
That sticks to your fingers when you touch their wings,
Learn to run along the running river as the crows,
My heart, you try to swim against the flow,
As you want to reach the mountain to glow,
Not polluted with sluts of thought to row,
In the Jacuzzi of salted pit that has the distinct brows,
My heart, you are a machine, but organic,
Coenzymes are your tonic, cohabitation is not unique,
Even the worms do that under the ground,
Why do you stand as the light house that has windows?
Playing with light every other second from the borough,
My heart, play that fiddle to soothe and woo,
These hearts are weak, need some vigorous exercise,
Let them dance on the floor of the night lights,
Day time darkness may ease their anxieties,
Don't scare them with the drums to chase away the brutes,
My heart, you are a fool, as you are an organic machine,
Our men have become the robots, they need to be recharged.
veeraiyah subbulakshmi
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-heart-please-fake/
