My hearts a grave and its abysmal. I live my life inside out, showing people the hollowness of my innards before they dare touch me. I have nothing left to give, nothing left to grieve. I’m an embodiment of the word emptied. Don’t touch me. I could spoil you, turn your insides black. Rot your center and watch you crawl away slack limbed and jawless. Diseases aren’t made, they’re born. Don’t forget that.