If you talked to me about blood I might not understand.
You see, I've seen it pooled so often that it doesn't seem right to think of it as something that needs to be in a body.
It doesn't need a body.
A body is just flesh.
God knows that flesh doesn't stay.
I've seen it melt away. I've seen it eaten. I've seen it rot. I've seen it fade.
A body is just flesh and blood.
But both don't always need each other to make it all easier anyway.
(I just wish it would all go away. I'm sorry for your blood and bodies and I didn't mean to make you pay)
If you talked to me about a home, I might not understand.
You see, I've been here so long that it doesn't seem right to long for it, as something that someone needs to stay.
No one needs a home.
You need only a house.
It stays unmoving, invincible.
I've battered them against the walls. I've thrashed into the windows. It falls apart in places, but it will not fall.
A home is just a house where you live and breathe.
But I don't need the air, and that doesn't make it easier to be.
(She wouldn't let me leave. This is not my home, and she wouldn't let me leave.)
If you talked to me about life, I might not understand.
I died so long ago that it doesn't seem right to miss it, as something that I need to live for, as though it's for my survival.
I don't need a life to live.
Existence is a funny thing.
And its long, so long.
They and I are all proof that there are so many parts to it that its never really over. It comes and goes, but it wont stay away.
A life is just an existence, where you do what your mind says.
But I never really lived, so what can I say.
(Please let it end. I never wanted this, and they only make me weep. Make it go away.)