Hearts.

What a stubborn piece of organ the heart is.
It loves even when it isn't loved back,
It hopes even when all rational thought discourages it,
It yearns even when there is nothing left to do so,
It hurts alone without anyone noticing,
And sometimes it breaks and refuses to be mended.

If only it could work hand in hand with the brain,
If only it could think- rationally and critically.
If only it could be controlled.
Then maybe there'd be less disappointment in this life.