Inside my mind
there's a raven-headed man.
He stands aside a cage
where my soul once ran.
She thrashes against the bars.
"Oh, please set me free!"
I'd like to let her go,
but I know she's not me.
Her face is bashed in.
Blood covers the floor.
The raven-headed man only watches
as her fingers grow sore,
for she scratches so
at her hollow chest.
Her tears fill the chasm,
but it's in mockery, in jest.
She has no heart.
She can not feel.
These are only my emotions
which she steals.
So, I watch her scream
until her throat bleeds dry.
And the raven-headed man takes wing,
leaving us to wonder why.