Between each lie,

I see the hurt in your blue eyes.

I know you feel as lonely

As the single groove in your bed.

Or the forgotten memories

Hidden inside your head.

Death holds your heart,

With that hole she carved into it.

In his other hand he holds a black clock,

And counts down your life minute by minute.

I wrote this about my friend, who has a hole in his heart and has seizures because of it. I find it ironic that right after his wife cheated on him, he found out about the hole in his heart and the possibility of death, if a severe seizure takes hold.