My lungs tremble
as my breath is taken away.
Hear me? I have no voice.
Only a pale whimper shoved from my throat.
A minute, no, two spent on gasping.
Oxygen? I have none in my cadaver.
Fresh bruises, rather, cover my neck.
The nape, hidden behind strands
of fading color.
Sound? I'll have nothing of it.
I'd rather hear my blood seep through my ears
than listen to your voice.
It's all for you, this tragic experiment.
And so another day,
another chance at another chance
is gone.
 
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