I painted you a hall of pictures
bled you a museum full of art
and then you stole all the sutures
that I had sculpted for my heart.

My ribs are broken,
inside you pace,
cracking frames with each word spoken,
they put the ropes there for a reason,
to prevent the pieces from destruction

but they never made a rule to protect the viewers who were cracking
criminals who broke the bones barred on the door to come inside
without asking