PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I stare at my blade,
And all I see is a tool of war,
Made not for a time of peace,
But for a moment of war,
To inflict pain and suffering,
Not to help and ease,
People say they are proud,
Of there kill count with a blade,
The cold, sharp and unforgiving edge,
That does not discriminate,
On who it inflicts it's pain,
The edge is hungry,
And wants to be fed,
With the blood of it's victims
Can you resist,
It's call for blood