Blood at the Tip
I had a tale that was far too long,
It was filled with hate and filled with scorn.
I try to forget but all want me to tell,
I want to know not about the time I used to kill.
Her name was unknown, but her soul was so dark,
Her heart was so cold I wanted to tear her apart.
I took my knife and anger slashed at my soul,
Blood trickled down my fingers, and I heard the final toll.
Her screams were not silent, I laughed in her face,
She was evil to me, and I offer no grace.
Her breaths were shallow, her outlook was dim,
But she didn't realize that's just how I begin.
I took my knife, revenge glowing in my eyes,
I stared down at her and severed the final tie.
Her black soul was unleashed, nefariously screeching,
Her body was falling, her hand was reaching.
I took not her hand as her fingers slipped,
I looked down at my knife,
With blood at the tip.
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