The emptiness, that fills
The hollow cavity, where
A heart should beat.
Where blood would go
Now, nothing flows.
What is there, that is meant to be?

Of the things kept inside,
And all the pain I've tried to hide.
Turned outside, onto the world,
Wherein the soul reside.
Spilled, to the ground
The collapse, of all that surrounds.
Careening down,
The end of a life.