“Your heart is a beast”
They said
And ripped open your ribcage to pull it out
Antiseptic smiles
scalpels in their hands
a sheet stapled to your chest that just said
”wrong”

“this is for your own good”
They said
While the
flesh peeled and
Bones cra ck e d apart
Fur pulled out til it was all red
And

The howl was stolen from your throat
so you couldn’t even scream
couldn’t bare your own **** fangs
Cause they’d taken those too

Your heart is a dull-toothed beast
Staggering and swaying
Snapping at the wind
Spitting up blood
Leaving a red trail in the earth with its paws
To match the one your organs made
When they all spilled out

“for your own good” they said

And

You are dying



Bleeding out in the dirt
Hemorrhaging on the inside
like some forgotten thing hit on the highway
like some old fiend, having taken its last blow
and curled up to die
while the warrior sheaths his sword and gets a hero’s welcome

but you don’t

you should be dying
but someone scoops up your shattered little heart and the shards of your bones
your organs where you left them on the ground
and takes you home

“it’s okay” they say
As they gently scrub the blood out of your fur
until it’s all white again
“you’ll be alright” they say
as they clean the grime out of your paws
sharpen your nails
Dust off your heart
And nestle it deep in your chest
under patchwork superglued bones

they arrange all your important parts with the care of someone
who knows how easily things break
drain all the blood out of your lungs
and you remember how simple breathing used to be
when you weren’t drowning with every breath

“they were wrong” the tender one says, sharpening your fangs
Petting your head
“But you are not”
And their hands are so warm
That you think you can believe it