“Give up your thoughts”
So I gave them my mind

“Give me your choice”
So I gave them my spine

“Now I need love”
So I gave them my heart
They then told me that this was the start

Of what I asked without the slightest conception
“Oh my dear, of your pain, apathy, and depression”

I made the paint with a knife
That bright red color stained my life

The shadows of pain and strife deepened the piece
Further into what it was, an existence without peace

I was ruminating on finishing this work of art
I was deeply aching to go back before the start

The work I had done kept me going
But it left me empty, void, and in a state of unknowing

Without a heart, I lost mind
Without my mind, I had no soul
Without a soul I wanted death