I grab the blade in my right hand,
My heart beats in my left palm.
How did it come this far?
I promised I would never let this happen.

I would never get hurt.
I promised this to myself.
I can't stitch my heart anymore.
It looks like Chucky's face with how many stitches I've put in it.
So many bandages cover the cuts and scrapes.
Bands of red colored paper cover-up the bruises.

I swing my right hand back and down,
Plunging the blade in my heart.
I smile sadly and contentedly as the beating dies down.
The thumps that warm my hand stop.

"It's over. The heart beats no longer."
I smile widely, sadly, and contentedly as I say these words.
The words that I thought I would never be forced to say.

The one who comes behind me and wraps his arms around me,
Is a combination of all the ones that have hurt me in the past.

"What have you done? We wanted to play with it more. We thought you liked putting it back together after we destroyed parts of it."

The voices haunt me,
Tear me apart inside.
Send the tremors through me.
I pull away, and throw my heart in a corner,
A corner hidden by shadows.

"There is not one who can bring it back and put it back together again."
You will never be able to hurt me again.
What am I to do now?