I slice open my chest and reveal the beating mass,
What used to be a heart, left bloodied and bruised,
Now, looks more like a dying thing.
Not a vessel of hope, unable to sustain life.
Weak and laying on the edge of cessation,
I watch.

Is this the moment it stops, and I am lost behind the veil?
Is this my final act of desperation,
To watch, to wait, to become, this death?