Self-Surgery on the Soul

I’ve been poked and prodded at with
needles filling my newborn veins with
God knows what; I’ve been sliced open
so that they could invade my
abnormal heart and
dig out a hole to keep my
infant body alive; maybe
these same people pierced my body
to install something artificial,
something man-made,
to keep my growing body alive. And yet,

I keep searching – for someone out there
who might fill in my soul
to keep me happy – for something to
keep me alive. All thanks to
Death for vacating a
part of my soul I
never got to know. I’ve
gotten desperate; I don’t care
what they look like. As long as
that part of me is filled and
I am still alive, I am happy.


2 thoughts on “Self-Surgery on the Soul

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