My heart is a plaything
On a length of tattered string,
Batted at by paws
With unrestrained claws.

The body's still breathing, but I'm not quite alive,
A soul in standby, simply trying to survive.

This can't keep going.
The tears won't stop flowing.
The self-loathing is growing.
The façade has slipped, and the real me is showing.

I can't remember what time feels like,
Or how to form a genuine smile.
I've forgotten the sound of my heart hammering in my ears,
And the sensation of touch is a beautiful memory.
Gutted. Numb. Hollow. Lost.

In love, there is a sacrifice:
Your happiness for your companion's happiness.
What they enjoy may not make you happy...
But isn't it worth seeing eyes light up?
Smiles stretch across cheeks?
Shoulders rise in anticipation?
*A thousand times *yes.

The body stands as tall as a tree,
As the soul inside of it falls to its knees.