Oh what a wicked heart.
The love, an equal playing field and part.
The pain, disdainful at the start,
what a twisted heart.

What a wicked feeling,
The things that it just keeps revealing.
Twice more sorrow than tomorrow dealing,
such a wicked feeling.

But what a wicked power.
It’s control, it keeps me every hour.
Forcing me, that hearty flower,
taken by its wicked power.

Thus a wicked heart, it is.
A controller, the most horrid part, it is.

It seems, its mask, its love is fake.
My wicked heart, just my mistake.