I wish to extract this heart from my chest,
to remove the love but all keep the rest.
For I need this pain much more than my heart,
it reminds me that love rips you apart.
How it keeps you alive despite your cries,
awake and breathing, as part of you dies.

Today I met a feeling, that had left me all but wordless.
Despite my wit and clever words, I’d found my mind quite worthless.
It strode itself up to the walls, surrounding my lonely heart,
and all it took was a gentle push, to tear them all apart.
Walking through the wreckage of the walls that had kept me away,
it passed right through me, as if a ghost, and then was on its way.
In the moment that it filled me, the holes in my heart had healed,
but still upon its fleeting passage, its cures had been repealed.

In a city of greed not a single soul giving,
a man with sad eyes tired of living.
A heart made of stone yet still painted red,
a walking shell for inside he is dead.
His mouth will lie while his hands may steal,
they both serve to hide the wound that won't heal.
A blow to the heart crippling at best,
now a void in the center of his chest.

It all but spreads, a gentle lie.
From mind to mind, and eye to eye.
A hidden frown, beneath a smile.
A few feet more, maybe a mile.
A soft word here, kindness throughout.
Suppressed anger, a voiceless shout.
Shaking his hand, a deal now made.
His love now lost, the price he paid.

I am the author of stories unwritten.

Of memories forgotten, and love birds smitten.

A lonely puppet on ethereal string,

but beware the lessons my stories bring.



For each story that you devour,

I'll take not seconds, minutes, or hours.

For each lesson learned, two more are lost.

Prime entertainment, this is the cost.



So be wary of words, as sweet as the sky.

For the faster you read, the quicker you die.

The world may find you left behind,
is not all that it seemed.
These fancies found may be bound,
by all that could be dreamed.
For the more you hide the dark inside,
the more you start to rot.
Your mind takes hold and heart runs cold,
for all you've loved, forgot.

Imagine a world you create all your own, right down to the sinew, blood, and the bone.

Now how would you rule this whole world anew, populated by no one apart from you?

Would you make others to not feel amiss, feel the warmth of a hug or the gift of a kiss?

Or remain all alone, to avoid all the hurt. To grow bitter and cold finding hate to exert?

Now me, I don't know, but I know I'd prefer to live life beside others just as they were.