Knife



A stain

on my skin.

a stain

on my soul.

Relief

in the shape

of a knife.

It hangs

suspended

on a chain of tears

prepared

to take

my life.



The chain

will break.

The knife

will fall

and blade

will Peirce

my heart.



I then,

released,

will then,

with joy,

stalk

into

the night.



-San Carpenter