Hopeless Romantic Poem by Twisted Moon

There are many things I long to do,
But I cannot do them, So I ask you,
Tired of shame, blame, and self-doubt,
Take my insides in your hands and rip them out.

Saw off my skull, and take out my brain,
Try and figure out why I'm so insane,
Drill into my ear, observe my ossicles like artifacts,
Pluck out my eyes, step on them, then put them back.

Snip my achilles tendons, so that I can never walk,
Tear out my vocal chords, so you don't have to hear me talk,
Don't mind the blood, embrace the flood into a world so loathsome,
Take some air from my lungs and inflate my corpus cavernosum.

Put a hammer to my sternum, and open up my chest,
Slice open my black heart, and lay me down to rest,
Take my felt pick in your hand, as you put down the knife,
Strum my chordae tendinae and play a song about life.

Stick a fork into my lungs and see if they deflate,
Like a balloon in the sky, wouldn't it be great?
Take out my liver, and toss it into the dirt,
See if it can filter filth, see if it would hurt.

Yank out my intestines and twist them all around,
Scratch my ribs against a chalkboard, and listen to the awful sound,
Burn my useless bladder, that never did me any good,
Take my kidneys to the black market and get for them what you could.

Pull out my hair, and put it on your door as streamers,
Tie a harness to your truck, step on the gas, and scream out my femurs,
Snap off my knee caps, clean them up good with polish,
Look at my body at whatever is left, and choose what you want to abolish.

With all that you've done, it's been so much fun
I ask you please not to grieve,
I embrace my death, my last painful breath
Just kiss me gently on the lips before you leave.