Poetry

my heart, is a sad
sick, twisted clump
of tissue, rotting
in my chest. it is
a black abyssmal
nothing. full of
sadness and
void of
life...
hear it beat.
that pitter-pat...
ba-da-bump...
ba-da-bump...
slowly it beats, getting
slower, and
slower. until it stops.
and breaks.
the ticking of the soul
has broken
its beat.
the heart's clock
no longer works.
it has died.
along with my soul.
so what am i now?
i am lost.
lost forever in the
sick abyss of
fear and woe.
sorrow fills me
and my heart, is a sad
sickly clump of human
tissue, rotting in
my chest...