Trowel

We were crafted for one another,
Matching daggers held in sheaths of gold.
Perfectly symmetrical,
Until yours pierced my flesh with turmoil.
The crimson stain showed a significant change.
You, dagger, were meant for harm.
I was here to be an aid to men.

Therein lay the difference
Between your glimmering blade
And my earth-stained one.
We were crafted equally,
But with the flash of time and choice,
I became a knife all my own.