I pick up the knife

my beloved dagger dear

and wondered at the truths

it might whisper today.

But as I stare at the polished surface

my face doesn't greet me.

I turn it over and over

and in turn, three others stare back -

the knight, the muse, and the fool

look me in the eye

My truth falls from my hand

and slices me

on the way down

And I watch as crimson life

bubbles from my skin

It's not the only scar

from my beloved dagger dear

So I laid and cried to sleep

to a disenchanted lullaby

When I wake, it's all gone

and there's nothing left to lose -

except my sanity.

I need to leave behind

my beloved dagger dear

but I can't -

it's scars are too deep.

Raising my eyes I see

a figure in the distance

and long-forgotten memories stir

with the last of my strength

I run to it -

which is you.

There are days I miss the pain

of the beloved dagger dear

but your tenderness overcomes

and all that's left

is a memory of crimson life.