I let them hollow me out,
(I didn’t want the insides anymore)
They gutted my heart, mummified my soul—
(So I will not decay anymore)

I have sanitized
my humanity, and now
I am immune.
(It’s lovely not to feel anymore…)

Life as a shell
is an existence surprisingly pleasant
but I almost miss
that defective little mind of mine…
(But the memories do not hurt anymore)

There’s a strange feeling of soreness, though,
that aches where I used to have a soul—
phantom pains of discarded passion,
but thankfully I do not hunger
(I no longer have a stomach anymore)