Twisted, protruding and mangled; my heart.
Life seems levitated upon my resting place,
right there at your feet.
Can I be allowed a phone call to my shattered body;
do please reassure my flesh that I still exist.

Numbness only to secure abstinence;
easier said than done, only the strong prevail.
Rubber grips and a metal frame and the smell of burnt sulphur and carbon;
the tool that drove life right out of my left temple.
I am right handed; with my own hand, my own absence of leave.
I want to live, I want to die again another time;
just not as I am now;
unfulfilled.

Through torture and pain, I am a fighter.
I am dramatically a complainer,
tools such as questions and expectations, my unbecoming.
Feather light as I float,
my expectations, again, my reason I am not me...

Dont bring me back, cry for me;
hold me hard, rock my body in your arms,
stay, don't just leave.
I have no one, no empty spaces to fill;
to fill like a cup with the chagrin of my decisions.
Let me stay, just hold me;
even more for it's the last time.

My end. Thorough yet empty.