sometimes I feel a hole in my chest
through which my soul might seep
if I let it

so I have to carefully hold my finger
over the hole, being cautious
not to loose a drop

this, in the end, becomes exhausting
so I decide, reluctantly
to move my finger

I expect a gush of warm, sticky
red, at the moment I release
my finger

so I brace myself for death
and let go
only to be surprised

at the shining mercury
exploding from my chest
shining balls, mirrors

land on those around me
absorb into their skin
and somehow, because of this

I am full

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