The Mighty Hypothalamus

I, The Mighty hypothalamus,

My power is greater than a hippopotamus.

The heart is an organ by whom I was deceived,

For he got the praises I should have received.

I am the thinker, the doer,

Never had I thought of the world thinking of me so poor.

The evil of poetry, I thought would have never been this bad,

The humans are insane to follow such a fad.

I think of the verses and the poetry,

But 'is the heart who won all the victories.

I am the reason for love, hate, and desire,

And not the heart cause of whom my jealousy burns like fire.

In conclusion, the praises should go to me and not the heart,

For he did nothing it was all my part!