I sigh to myself as I stare blankly at my ceiling in the darkness of the night. I am meant to be asleep,

but I am not

I am meant to love a man,

but I have not

My blood flows out from my open chest wound, which makes me shiver every time my cover shifts to expose my fat organ I call my stomach. It clenches; it shrivels;

i want it to die

But all I can think to myself is:

"Gosh, I have to stop getting blood all over these hardwood floors..."