How did my heart become this bloody mess?
Who were the hammers, who were the nails?
Surely, some were steel, slicing through aorta
As others were the pounding catalysts for all my woes.
What are they, where are they now?
I imagine they’re enjoying bloody Mary’s
In my torn up ventricles.
They’ve made a sail from fibrous tissues
To move their way throughout my body.
The laughter hits my lungs and brain,
Echoes toward the deepest parts of me.
Every time I walk I feel their ridicule
And the holes bored in my chest.