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Timothy Fuller
Poems
Jun 28
Heart Surgery
Sliding, gliding, just a squelch,
Firmer, faster, almost a belch,
Deeper, steeper, I start to whine,
After this I will be fine...
Sharpest thing I could find,
A bullet did cross my mind,
Scalpel unskilled in another hand,
Lethal precision what I had planned.
I little further past the bone,
You try and reach me on the phone,
"Let's start fresh, a whole new start."
A moment late, I removed my heart....
Written by
Timothy Fuller
36/M/AZ, USA
(36/M/AZ, USA)
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