I am disgusted with my reflection that ceases to exist.
Yearning for intimate warmth only to receive cold expression.
The rhythmic ***** has disintegrated within my person and all that remains is a gaping hole.
Cold air seeps through but it is beyond repair.
A quest to avenge my pride resulted in a domestic battle.
My heart had subconsciously committed treason.
No longer able to finish the mission my title lies in ruins while my soul rummages through the rubble searching for pieces of my Jane Doe.
But with the heaps of ash covered ruins, how will I ever be found?