Heartbeat throbbing

If I could make my golden heart beats beat, Red like the first wood from my first borrowed word, I wonder if 'pon a widowed world, I could seek out the etcasy of my over dewed subdue... ...if like the morning come when I still sleep, my dreams collide, with bitter reality.. and I must retake, as with my hand and bow, upon whose breath begin to stow... and yet have a not? but said a prayer, for sinned on my part.. and yet apauled that no chance to catch my breath... for when breath comes, its stored away... ...away. just like a rest counted down amongst my music... amid my heart beat, bitter sweet.