I swore myself to you
seared my vow into my skin
so all could question its meaning –
its truth
that would brand me
a heretic and a fool
(but what's the difference?)
The words trace my every vein
unreadable scrawls awaiting to be
struck out
with a scalpel to extract the
truth my soul
spilling out onto paper
but I can't make the cut
(when will you be
satisfied?)
The mirror stares my promise back
my eyes quiver away into dark sockets
I left the scalpel on the table
my fingers shake at its could touch
I wish I could do more.
(could I leave this vow unbroken?)
-Zero
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