My chest and the blows its been delt.

Not only has my chest been hit over and over and over again.
Not just by fists,
Not just by being stabbed,
Those stupid idiotic assholes...
Not only has my chest been the thing taking the beating for my heart.
Being broken and healed and then to be broken again.
Not only just these things...
Oh no.
It has not only been just nick-ed
Stabbed,
Slashed
Cut
No.
It has been tortured.
I was so desperate to get rid of the "things" on my chest
Those horrible "things" that have been contributing to my life being so hard.
I was so desperate...
That I decided to under go surgery myself.
And by that,
I do mean, PREFORM the surgery on MYSELF.
In my room
I sat
With the only thing I could find.
A kitchen knife,
No, not one of the big and sharp ones,
This was a table knife. Not even a steak knife.
It was dull and only serrated on one part of that blade.
I took that thing with all the will I had in me
All the will I had in my body to live
Because I know.
And knew.
If I dont get this surgery,
I WILL die.
So I took that knife,
If you would consider it so
I took and stabbed and slashed.
When that didnt work,
I went and sawed away at my flesh.
Back and forth
Back and forth
Back and forth
For hours on end.
With all the strength I had in me,
I did this
For hours and hours on end.
And when I finally realized that it wouldnt work...
I decided to go deeper.
Till I reached my heart.
That vital organ...
And key to life.
If I cut that,
All my troubles would be through...
So, I continued with that
Dull
Rusty
Serrated
"Blade"...
Back and Forth
Back and Forth
Back
And
Forth
Again
And
Again...