with each slice, each sacrifice
my mind chips into pieces
the body I reside in withering away,
Including my heart
# # !
*i don't like it.*
yellow stained keys
parts that need to be repaired
strings in dire condition
i am no longer the pristine,
beloved instrument
# ! #
*again.*
no longer something precious
no longer needed nor desired
and yet i continue to play,
music escaping whenever you decide to press my keys
time and time again-
! # #
*i ran out of ink.*