An aching heart wounds the soul. A soul already so full of scars. An aching heart winds the soul. A soul already fallen apart. I am but a chain in the link, and you, we’re to connect me. Strike me a fool to ever think, that you would protect me. A string of soul, stems from the heart. To tie to yours, as it falls apart. You give your strings to another, they do not wish to connect with you. You gave your strings to another, who twist, and turn, and cut the spool. Now I, body lain, am tether-less. Another scar to the soul, another sin nevertheless. My form and function separate, a shallow husk of what was. My dying breath desperate, for the link that never was.