His fascination began in a science class one year
It was something he loved that the others all feared
As it lay silent and cold on the tray
It called to him while all others pulled away.
He could still hear it beating in his mind’s ear
And he reached out to touch it as he grew near
To his mind’s senses it was alive and well
And it beckoned him forward, this much he could tell.
He held the dead living organ within his hand,
Caressed it with his fingers reveled in it and
At the end of the class, it was to be returned
For they had observed it and become well-learned.
From that day forward, he plotted and planned
A new way to get a heart into his hand
One that was beating and warm and alive
Towards this goal he began to strive.
He became so very madly obsessed
It was hard not to just take it from someone’s breast
As he grew more and more intent on his goal
He began, over his mind, to lose control
His plans became more geared towards a chest
From which he could cut out the heart that was best
And his dreams were filled with blood and knives
And the wish to end peoples’ lives
So he could finally get a heart to hold
Until it became too stiff and cold
And he’d kill another at his leisure
To find another precious treasure
And free it from its fleshy tomb
So much of his mind had this desire consumed.
One day to fill his need and give him pleasure
He cut, from his chest, his warm, beating treasure
And holding it close as he fell to the floor
This mad man blissfully became no more.