I Give You My Word

I cry unto you, and still my tears go unnoticed, why do you crave my attention to spurn me when I step forward? My hands dig into the soil, earth crumbles through my fingers, the stains of mud cling to my fingernails, as dirty and soiled as my soul. I am Scarred by your hatred of my weakness, though my weakness be you, despising myself for my need, yet succumbing to it's call. The knife cuts deeper into my flesh, yet my wounds bleed your blood, my veins hold no life force of their own, the same knife that carves your name upon my shame. Under a veil of deception you tease and taunt my yearnings, my longing for that which evades me at each turn. No-more shall you take from me, that which brings release to my spirit,I also prepare for you. Salvations saving grace, by the hand that once was held within your's, to this I solemnly vow. This night I deliver unto you my word, you will hear my call, tonight I will not be turned away. The knife has been sharpened by your viscous tongue, yes tonight I give you my word, as this dagger severs your throat. I delight in the attention you now attempt to offer me, Mercy is the word you give to me, too late, it's too late. As I raise the dagger once more, under the weeping silhouette of the moon, I again give unto you my word, and my word is death.