At least you have one..

you cry, you tear,

of events,

of things that won’t come back,

that is the mind regretting,

four lobes in the hat, cerebelum,

plus additional stuff and parts,

memenots of evolved past,

most of it all not caring,

most of it too busy with function.

function comes to the heart,

effortlessly, yet it bleeds and aches.

the heart, empty , spacious,

squeezes the four chambers,

runs rings with piping,

but it has time, to mourn,

it beats in a heavy stoic adagio,

for the precession of failings,

and failures and farewells,

moved and moved again,

not broken, but hurting,

shedding sorrow,

with the stream of blood,

it has time to occupy ,

in feeling and emotions,

despite the responsibility,

the urgancy of the pumping.

those that are cold blooded,

are pitiable creatures,

living with a heartbeat,

but never a moment to love.

their beat is busy and relentless,

and only functionality makes it work,

living meaningless circles,

from beat to beat,

sheilded from the danger, perhaps,

until the unbroken heart,

beats no more.