Crack open the ribcage and remove the heart; even surgery can't fix the things that keep it beating, beating against the chest, banging its fists on the bone bar ribs. Need a needle. Thread. Sew up the lips of the already undead. Keep the zombies silent about questionable practices.
I'm sorry I'm a mess. I'm sorry I'm not honest. I'm sorry I can't forget all you mean to me and all the things in the world we had planned to see. together. I'll just google image search the sights and imagine we went there. If I half-die on the table tonight, they'll sew me up so you can't hear me scream, if you're even still listening.
... I can't read your thoughts, so maybe I'm over-thinking it. But maybe I'm not. Doctor, schedule me an open-mind surgery.
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