My heart intertwined and mangled
with the inner-workings of my organs.
Everything I knew about living became
justified as it was sure to be reality.
Someone, please pinch me.

I loved how, sometimes, there is
nothing that could be done.
On the surface, I accepted the abruptness,
but a fire ignited inside me and a roar
fought my chest and lungs.
What could feel worse than this other
than our own excruciating demise?

So, I pinched myself knowing that
numbness had already dispersed
itself under my skin drawing closer
to my marrow. I would soon feel nothing,
except the actuality my heart's death.