• Callous hearts beat for no-one, really
    their owners are not living, they just wait to decay
    they salvage what they can at the end of the day
    they gibber and whisper, and some of them pray
    For a time when they shall again be free
    A bird gliding on currents of air
    high and dry above the raging sea

    Callous hearts do not bleed ichor or acid or glue
    their hearts are no different from me or from you
    and they too shed tears, for dreams spilt too long ago
    like seeds upon ground unwilling to sew
    and then the sun would rise and, as a new day'd begun
    they'd see all they'd worked for shrivel away.
    Watch how their seeds all rot and decay
    while their peers revel and dance in that very same light.

    Callous hearts have calluses, too
    closed wounds and blisters itch still beneath layers of skin
    dead as their prostrate forms wish only to be
    alone in their knowledge that there is no sin
    Only grief, guilt, and shame
    and the ravages of fame.