it’s useless. i have a broken heart that doesn’t stop breaking. how does that work? break, re-break and re-break. how many little pieces do i really want? there must be hundreds. no, more. god i could weep right this minute just thinking of that bloody little mess in my chest somewhere.
i am broken. i am a broken person. not just the heart, but all of me. i’m just that. so broken that nobody can touch me. anybody who comes near me and tries touching me walks away with bloody hands.