Surgically removed,

they just forgot to distribute some morphine.

The smoke cleared and the dust settled.
But the only one with a whole in his chest was me.
Not by fire arm or sword, this wound was caused.
But by her, she who I held in my arms just moments before.
Yet I am not angry with her, for she did not know.
I am angry with myself, for not seeing the truth.
And believing my own reality of red roses and white rabbits.
There where once was a vital organ, pulsing with life,
is now a hole, deeper and darker then ever before.

You stole my hart, I'd like something in return.......