I killed my heart.
Yes I shot it dead.
It all ended with a few peices of lead.
It was the only way to protect what was dear to me.
I've learned from my mistakes.
Oh yes, I learned them well.
As the saying goes,
it's three strikes,
before we all go to hell.
I refused to lock my heart up,
because locks can be broken.
Keys can be stolen.
I couldn't put it in a gilded cage,
because cages can be cut,
and like a prize canary, taken.
I wouldn't put walls up,
because walls can be climbed.
The gaurds tricked and like a princess in a castle, kidnapped.
I denied myself the right to hide it,
because all things lost become found.
So yes, I murdered my heart.
In a brutal deed.
I stood in the cavity
and cut the throbbing arteries.
It fell to the floor in a bloody mess.
Still it beat.
So I shot it until it ceased.
And as I stood void to time.
As the last of the blood ebbed away,
it turned to dust and faded away.
I trapped myself some would say.
In this embryonic sac.
But I saved myself.
I did what others could not,
and for the effort I was rewarded.
Because never again can I be hurt.
Never again can I be forgotten.
So yes, I killed my heart.
I did the bloody deed.
And now I sit in the jail of my own shell.
And wait for the true end.