I want to rip my chest open and force feed you my beating heart.

I want you to see it.

I want you to feel the the rush of the warm red blood on your face.

I want you to feel how mangled I am. I want you to see the damage. The emptiness...? No. I want you to see the carnage.

Maybe then you would understand.

When you ask me

"How are you doing?"

I quietly stitch myself back up, and smile back at you. 'I'm alright, and you?'

Both of our souls are dead.