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.