The Knife

A cold slick surface

a sharp smooth point

hard and stiff like a board

etched with precision

encased in rough leather,


forced to hide from the past

wanting to see the future

sitting there taunting me

wanting me to do more

hoping I'll give into the pain

and pull it from it's tomb,


a never ending battle

for whats right or wrong

to gently glide across the skin

heart starts beating faster

the feelings rush through your body,


press it against the veins

harder as you pull it away

the thought of knowing its over

engulfs your heart and soul,


the pain is gone

yet the knife remains

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