I am a shell and
I am empty and
my seams are torn and ripped and ragged
like a dagger has sliced a hurricane through my chest
and all the emotions I'm supposed to have have poured out
like honey
like water
like innocence
like red red blood that pools and drips and
streams from my wrists like
the hungry blade of nothingness like
how I felt that time I waltzed with death

but

because I am not a real person
no one cares
anyway.