i stand here with a hole in my chest. someone unearthed the key and dug up all the rest, their grimy hands scratching and scraping into the dark. Unsure of what they'll find, but they wouldn't mind leaving the tomb with a few antiques, maybe one or two.
i wish they bagged my soul with them. it's rusting itself blue.
the cruel irony of preaching love & kindness when it will never happen to you