Your Ghastly Heart,
Little remains of your face.
Your id has overcame,
And I don’t miss you.
Your beaten and bruised,
Soft, tender, sweet skin.
I don’t miss your ripped
Golden locks of silk.
I don’t miss your tearful,
Sweet, sickly sweet voice.
All that we went through is nothing,
And I no longer need that Graff Pink,
I’m content with an emerald,
Cut to perfection.
Dcid Corvid 