PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Making a promise starts with little hope.
But no one knows how big that promise really is.
With all the burden and pain.
With temptation screaming at every direction and opportunity it has.
With the razor knife taunting and smiling devilishly.
A smile made up of dry blood from many uses before.
But the echo of the promise rises within.
Only to diminish the temptation for the time being.
Cracking the strong will and seeping fear only to be corrupted within.
The fear of losing self control, breaking the promise that is held on to with dear life.
As the razor knife laughs with its devilish smile, turning into a blood stain grin.
As the promise and the will starts to break.
Reaching the point of no return, the blade finds itself in your hands.
Ready to make a fresh new cut upon the smooth flesh skin.
But before the dyer moment of the cold blood rusted blade touches the flesh.
A hand of gentle grace takes the armed hand and holds it in both of their hands.
Taking the blade and throwing it towards the darkness and renewing the strength,
And will of the promise.
Looking forward to anything that comes from that way head on.
But not alone.
Forever having a silent savior by the side.