• Was there ever more words
    that could hurt or heal.
    Was there ever consideration
    before saying what you feel.
    You speak sharply like a knife,
    with intentions to carve,
    but how much blood and tears must shed,
    before you realize what you've done?
    Do you ever stop to see whats gone wrong?

    Take this knife you hold over me.
    Watch as it slides across the skin,
    cutting deep and tearing to shreads,
    but yet theres still a look of disapointment.
    Was this not enough?
    Soon there will be nothing left to see.

    Who would just sit under this point,
    with such pain caused?
    To give up would feel better than this,
    to leave would leave you with nothing,
    and nothing else to come.

    Now take this knife you so easily use,
    and see for yourself the damage that you have caused.
    Blinding rage, roaring animosity, nothing is excuse enough,
    and will drive you from your loved.

    I was here to heal you,
    but how could I even heal myself, with such constant strikes.
    You leave no hope, in me or for you.
    When I am gone what is left for you?
    So keep striking that blade,
    eventually, you will see the mess you made,
    or can you just no longer feel?