The Gored Heart Poem by Bonics Bachinela

A gored heart,
To whom was it owned?
Nobody, No one, ever did claim.
Within briar entwined,
The affection, chained,
In graces, those sound hearts 've forgott'n;
But, in disgraces, blamed.

Poor heart, a bamboo amidst devious gusts,
Still resilient with nature's flared thrusts.

Life, in fluctuating chances,
With intricate arduous paths,
The humble undaunted heart, paces.
Cheerful to the mocks of less educated words,
Gracious even to the mediocre sights, seen,
Waiting for fiends to be friends,
And, waiting for grumps to be grins.

The good heart, awaiting religiously
For a disarmed hostility.

When dusk over casted sunrise,
Azure skies turned reddish hue,
Flag's complacent blue
Became bloody red,
A battle commenced
Without seen bivouac.
Only a deep slumber be awakened by a wise act.

The time given for the forgotten heart
to play a relevant part.

Could empathy be invincible?
Could love heal a widespread battle?
The best scientist cajoled the unison
With the discovery
of well-concocted compassion.

The nobody and no one's heart,
Made the best part.
Anybody, somebody and everybody,
Claimed it to be the best HEART
Out of gore but precious art.