A gaping hole, a bleeding cavern,
My wound is mortal, but I feel no pain.
Nothing to see, nothing to touch,
It's not there, it can't be repaired.
There are no pieces, there are no shreds,
nor is there any dust left in my chest.
It's gone, it's lost,
my heart that I gave away.
Gone, given with all the love I had,
there was nothing left.
Crush it myself I would,
if it made you well.
If not enough it was,
my soul I would give.
Tear it out and burn it on a pyre,
for a shred of luck your way.
Give, until there was nothing left,
not enough it was, yet.
Gone, it cannot be given back,
for my love still burns until the very end.
All I'd give, instead though, my chest,
gouged out anew with taloned hands.
It is open, laid barren,
why isn't there more?
All I have left,
is feeling hollow.