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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
