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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