Let me explain what I have done to me
My heart has been scooped out
All its contents, that is
And it floats, empty
A vessel to be filled
With nonsense things and that which I don't mean
To please this world and the people I know
It sounds cruel perhaps
To me or to them?
But I have decided its necessity
Due to this world's cruel nature
And the fickleness of my heart besides
Cannot be trusted
Better to do without the troublesome organ
I may keep, however
My mind and all its faculties
By this way I shall keep me
All I do and say
Will be duly calculated
To receive the least suspicion
Of what I have done
For I fear it would incite many things
Were it to be known
Though I cannot expound
For I see little need for rebuke
It is the practical thing to do
Deciding I must survive
I wish to do so with least pain to me
Is such a crime?
You say I will not live?
I never said I would
