Right now you could take my insides
Separate them, with surgeon skills
The blade so sharp, rightly aimed
And you would find
Decay, a heart betrayed, hope so late,
Enduring hate, and foul entrails
Who can take this mess
And put it back together
No stitch or staple
Can hold it thus
Able to keep it
From pouring back out
For all I am
Is lust filled clay
Given spark from dust
And I've been flawed
From my making
From the taking
Of my soul
And thrusting it
Into a stand of meat
Into a being
Lost for eternity
By future lights
And history
