Black And White Blog
Remember when they grabbed our chest
and pierced their hand through our ribcage to get our hearts?
How they put it in a grinder,
heart still beating & shred it to pieces?
How we watched the whole time,
as they rolled the bits in papers the color of their souls.
How when they smoked the remains,
and how it smelt of remorseless acts, their faces nonchalant.
As we hung, breathing our last
As they breathed remains of a numb muscle.
Their heart, continuing to pound.
Ours? Ruptured before they were ever shredded.
Relieved because either way,
Even though our hearts are beating, doesn’t mean we’re truly living.