I am Dead

I am dead.

But please, don't

Try to measure, the

Life, you think I must

Have had. Because I

Was born this way.

You see:

My lungs don't know what it's like,

To inflate with the air of life.

My flesh and bones can only create

An illusion: me bearing weight.

And, my heart--my heart is stone.

I cry, I hug, I ache,

But know not a sliver of feeling,

Jealousy, love, hate.

I feel nothing--nothing real.

Do you know?

What it's like. To own a living life?

I've heard there's a way

To come alive for the first time,

To rip out this rock heart,

And replace depravities hole

With something … oh, something,

So divinely set apart.

All I know:

Is that I cannot

make my own heart beat.

But, I do feel desperation,

And I so desperately

Want to be alive.