Blade-Song

by pyro

Published September 8, 2011

Sing to me,
My sweet, sweet blade,
And tell me of
Calm Death's fair trade.

Paint me a picture,
A splatter of red,
Take me away
From what they've said.

Cutting words,
Slicing deep--
The pain you've sown,
I now must reap.

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The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.
— Mark Twain