It is my heart that craves extreme purpose.
It is my mind that harkins for true love.
One day both will manifest from above,
the real depth of our connection that preserves us.

Our hope is useless but verily necessary.
Our faith is strong yet it is never enough.
There exist good and freedom thereof.
There exist evil of which has no sanctuary.

We stay alive because of this mad world.
Our calling that seems to be utter suicide.
Sometimes my flesh cannot breathe from inside.
This concoction of life runs outward, twisted and twirled.

Yet I am certain of us in our beauty
Rescue for us and for the world with duty.

benuecongo:
It is my heart that craves extreme purpose.
It is my mind that harkins for true love.
One day both will manifest from above,
the real depth of our connection that preserves us.

Our hope is useless but verily necessary.
Our faith is strong yet it is never enough.
There exist good and freedom thereof.
There exist evil of which has no sanctuary.

We stay alive because of this mad world.
Our calling that seems to be utter suicide.
Sometimes my flesh cannot breathe from inside.
This concoction of life runs outward, twisted and twirled.

Yet I am certain of us in our beauty
Rescue for us and for the world with duty.

this isn't written in iambic pentameter, this your syllable count are irregular.