counting pains

24 weeks.
Another pint of blood drops.

168 days.
A dissembled heart continues to flutter.

Its always about them, I thought.
Almost screamed in my temple.

Never again.
I don't want to go there.
Again.
Not now, not tomorrow, not ever.

They all can doom the same.
This heart of mine will not beat for them.
And the blood in me, will never spill for them.

They are all one.
And I am not them.
Never will be.
Their heaven is up above in mine.
But to hell doth it feel.

The hours will disappear.