How penniless, pathetic, passive. A time that burned with The recognition of the heart, For so long, merely a cavity lay Where the beats should lie.
Then, by the call of the Siren, It became apparent That a vestibular Rhythm entered My core.
Could it be, My most painful irony Could be: That I only grew a Heart For it To be Stolen And Broken? Maybe.
The time has come alone (this time) To observe the Ambiguity of my existence Tear from some eyes Tear from the cavity. Itβs empty again, The heart cavity. Yet, If one were to look Next to, Above, Then Squint a little. There will be your name, Carved and branded into the flesh Stating that you were (and always will be) There.