The dullest scalpel of rusted metals
Bears itself into tissues of my soul
Slices through the hole that is my love
So my heart bleeds a passionate lament
What feelings are there in the chilling statuette
Who can deter its nearing arm
When it strikes my wounded emotions
Whence a woeful song flows from my heart
That, whose canine teeth bear my blood
Weaving into the soliloquay of a weeping heart
That, whose feline claws cut my soul
Dripping a ballad of an injured heart
Who can heal this bleeding heart
Where sad sonnets flow from open scars
When shall those grieving words end
Whose rhythms beat with each contraction of heart?
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