The Carver
--The Carver 10/09/09
There is a black knife in my pocket
It only carves your name
Try to erase it with the paint
It only traces the stains
Burnt red clings to the white
Embeds itself where the sun never shines
A cold which remains unforgotten
The blade reigns over its minions
Hidden shame leaches through
The parodied pain I can’t contain
There is a black knife in my pocket
Lingering towards screams faded
Look to the sky,
You blackened clouds with your guise
I recognize it every single time
Fall to the ground and wrap it around me
I failed…
There is a black knife in my pocket
Hands caress the blade so familiar with your name
Pull it out and place it firmly in my back
Don’t wane your strength now
A devilish Picasso chasing fame
White knuckles grasping air
Your chaotic cuts gain my voice
A strained silence that annoys
There is a black knife in my pocket
Cleansed by the blood that’s bled from me
Burnt red clings to the white
Will I no longer be confined?
----Bailey Sweet
There is a black knife in my pocket
It only carves your name
Try to erase it with the paint
It only traces the stains
Burnt red clings to the white
Embeds itself where the sun never shines
A cold which remains unforgotten
The blade reigns over its minions
Hidden shame leaches through
The parodied pain I can’t contain
There is a black knife in my pocket
Lingering towards screams faded
Look to the sky,
You blackened clouds with your guise
I recognize it every single time
Fall to the ground and wrap it around me
I failed…
There is a black knife in my pocket
Hands caress the blade so familiar with your name
Pull it out and place it firmly in my back
Don’t wane your strength now
A devilish Picasso chasing fame
White knuckles grasping air
Your chaotic cuts gain my voice
A strained silence that annoys
There is a black knife in my pocket
Cleansed by the blood that’s bled from me
Burnt red clings to the white
Will I no longer be confined?
----Bailey Sweet