Bleeding heart, who cut fair vein, and left you here to bleed?
Who plied the knife to wounding’s drain, through heinous, depraved deed?
Who dropped the ball, who left their post, that villain access gained?
Why are you gutted by the ghost whose hands with guilt are stained?
How came your fragile lonely heart to hang on futile sleeve?
Who plucked it down with loathsome dart and tore your make-believe?
Where will you turn, where will you find the comfort that you crave?
O bleeding heart, there is One kind, Whose strength can make you brave.