Pieces

cut my heart, watch me die watch the pieces multiply first there's four, now there's eight I'm dead and you can celebrate. for every piece you cut in half you watch me cry, I hear you laugh count bits of me on the floor soon there will be nothing more. it's funny how if I did this, too you'd hate my guts, but I don't hate you waiting for the end it's coming slow and I wish that I could just go. after all the mess you've made you take a bit to clean your blade your work done now you smile at the pieces of me, in a pile.