It's Not The Organ Poem by Curtis Mosby

In a transition of human life my eye's close as I save another.
A fallen brother in the night.
Because my donation little I know who shall live with this loving heart.
I walk in as a spiritual being but getting a sign of rage.
Impulse from the brain hoping is not thy heart.
Making progress he does from the wheelchair to on foot.
The people he surround himself with, give me a sense of why he was
in the hospital.
Guns, drugs, and money he live dark when my heart is sunny.
Why doesn't he change I save millions in pain.
With this heart nothing should stay the same.
I wrote the glory manifested and held deep inside.
I hate to watch my heart go to waste to a lonely lost child.
He rape women cold but not my heart it should be warm.
There seem to be no hope for him.
I guess it was me not physically but spiritually.
So I will give him a pardon.
Even with a heart from someone of love.
He still slung drugs.
It's not the organ.