He holds the beating heart so delicately,

Staring down at the one whose very hands ripped it out,

A cold sensation shocks the body as all functions start diminishing.

Walking into the dead of night he goes,

Still holding onto the stolen heart,

He leaves the seen as if it were not the first,

With no understanding of how the young girl loved him so,

But he was a monster,

And she refused to acknowledge his true nature.

A corpse left in the dirt to decay,

Crimson paints my chest,

Each breathe feels closer to the last,

Lungs blackened from the smoke that once filled the inside,

I have ripped myself apart,

Attempting to feed your ceaseless appetite.

The last breathe slips,

My sight goes black...