I have all these broken pieces
That you cut yourself on
In trying to fix me.
But I am bleeding
And this cross contamination
Is only setting us up for
Infection.
There is no resurrection
Of my soul
When it’s been dead for years
And the only sign of life
Is my running tears,
I am fragile.
Contagious.
So please,
When you realize what’s best for you
And leave like the rest do,
Don’t pity me.
Because I hate being a murderer.