Poem 30

I feel the dagger

Twisting, turning

Carving out the heart

Replacing it with stone.

Glints as the blade

Strikes the rocky organ

Showing the strength while

Compassion there’s none.

Icy cold and

Grasping with hurt

The daggers are circling

Waiting to strike

Again. Until the body

Is solid and sturdy

Unable to feel.

Incapable. Gone.

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