The sharp edge of a dagger's point,
Effortlessly keels into the skin so sought,
Call it retribution or call it reestablishment,
I shall match the scars left behind.

The beauty that once shown so bright,
Has become mysteriously devoid of light,
And now I sit in endless limbo of thought,
As few and faint my breaths are caught.

The curl of my lips speckle with small taste;
A small and tiny morsel of feeling escapes,
And my blood surges with a more definite hate,
It was always there yet I have given in.