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hello, my love
you seem to be missing something.
here it is.
in my hand,
your heart.
it's still beating,
(just a bit).
there's some blood,
gushing out your veins.
I cut you so cleanly,
with my knife,
did it even hurt?
I wanted it to,
(just a little).
that's why your stomach lays
up by your hair.
how is it, love,
being dead?
Something I whipped up while listening to the Black Veil Brides. I love them, man.
I was kind of going for a disjointed feel, because the person speaking is a little insane. Also I left most things uncapitalized to give the poem a detached feel. the person speaking does not give a damn that he or she just killed someone.

For the Written Revolution:
is it too choppy? Is it clear what is happening? Is the flow off? What's your interpretation of the poem?
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