Dark is the night that smothers me like a heavy, spiteful cloud. I very much wish that I could be a man with his head held proud. Knife jabs to the heart have left me bleeding on the floor. Punches thrown, and an arrow to the knee yet I will always beg for more for I crave the knife even as it hurts through struggle, and in strife. It has my heart to be quite curt, I never want us to be apart. I love my knife I love it so I don't know if I ever could truly let it go.