Tear tracks form, as they used to.
Blood seeps out, as it used to do.
This facade couldn't last.
His soul, my soul;
The charred, cracked, screaming remains of it:
Pleads for death.
It has been through Hell and back
My heart trudges on, a tired, weary activity
My lungs wheeze, struggling to perform the most basic tasks
*and why should it have to continue?