Irony

Before your flee on fateful eve
A song had then been sown
Of some wretched drone and hurting being
Which held a 'jar of hearts' unknown,
But then the wings beguiling
Chose to show the window pane
For such wanted wrenching freedom
Pieced itself on black haired thane
From a past of pasts, none which I know
And none I ever wished to, though,
But what one knows is soothing
To a soul who's now 'alone'.
And though it seems to you
That that beast collected hearts
Mine was yours and your alone
And only then did you go.