Monday, October 15, 2007

Still a work in progress

Twisted into a ruddy spear
strange stained artifact
Warped and bent by
The dirty hands
of the blacksmith
Hammering away
in his dark den until
it fits that sharp shape

Is this is what you
deserve? To be molded

by some gnarled hands that do not belong
to you? To be contorted into

Some violent weapon whose sole
purpose is to puncture
My flabby heart
To let my guts spill out
When I tear you from my chest
In disbelief

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