Concious of the pain,
Within my flesh it sits.
To numb the pain I train,
But still my flesh it slits.
It's sharpened blades mock,
They cut through bone and all.
My bodie's in a state of shock,
I'm on wobbly feet fearing to fall.
The cut was deep,
But the problem is the knife.
It sit's inside me as I weep,
Still destroying flesh and life.
A dagger of death bestowed upon me,
Driven by a beautiful maiden I trusted.
Though the dagger one cannot see,
It is there, deeply wounding and rusted.
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