Written by: By: Heidi Chester 8/26/2011
My eyes are open and instinct tells me I breathe.
Though I cannot be certain, I only feel it when I bleed.
My heart skips a beat, then pounds in my chest.
One more reminder, one more piece of me near death.
I have grown empty, and I do not feel distress.
There is no confusion, just inside a bloody mess.
There is nothing that can hurt me, so numb I feel no pain.
I tear myself wide open, searching for life inside my veins.
But I find nothing, no freedom, no release.
I cannot even feel remorse, for the lack of inner peace
I do not long or love, miss or wonder, nor seek the reasons why
I do not fear that I do not know just how I am alive.
I do not ask if it will end, or somehow disappear.
I won't survive if feeling returns. No, I much prefer it here.