Forged in Battle

I wield pain like a blade. 

I haven't decided if it's a sword, 

Or a dagger, 

Or a shard of broken glass. 

My guess is it's jagged and crude, 

But then again, I'm an expert at hiding. 

People always want to know why I push them away. 

Sometimes, it's hard to distinguish 

My hand from the edge of the blade so I think 

I'm comforting you, 

But truly I'm cutting off your arm in a downpour of blood. 

It's probably a sword. 

Pain grows, albeit in waves, 

And so I take it to war.