They grab a leg
and shake...
and shake.
They grab a arm,
because I don't-
feel the harm.
They grab my hair,
my fingers,
my toes,
my eyes,
my ears,
my heart,
my nose.
One by one
each piece goes.
Before I can breathe
they've stolen my breath.
They pick apart all I have,
and I ask,"is this death?"
Death so empty,
yet I feel peace when alone.
All those years I cried for someone,
but I feel so shaken;
so happy on my own.
Let my sharing freeze over,
that someday it plop and rot,
to see their grand expressions,
will they still care or will they not?
I've given all I have,
I've said goodbye to all I love.
They've looted me entirely,
do they yet have enough?
