My Blade

"My Blade"
By:  Edwin Calvo and Michael Roa

Today I keep a blade
With me to make me bleed.
At any time that I would like
I can make myself understand
The pain brought by the game,
This game that we call life.

Call me negative, or Mr. Negativity.
For I'm not positive and positively
Cannot oblige with anything you'd like.
I can not do, I can not say
Why today I carry a blade,
Or what -with it- I might -to do- decide.

Trust me, I am Mr. Cold.
Trust me for a moment more.
Although I can not say that you will like
What I'm about to do.
I will tell you the truth,
No, I will not lie.

.....

Armed with my blade and a morbid thought,
I finally understand this game, I must be in luck.
I'm exhausted from the temptation
That I've fearlessly fought.
Content with the feelings my morbid thoughts brought,
I stare ‘cause I know it can put my pain away;
I stare and I stare imagining rubies on my blade,
I stare and I stare and I stare some more.
With every slice it opens a new door,
So I cut and I slash and I slice away,
Wielding nothing more
Than my beautiful blade.

Armed with my blade and a morbid thought,
I finally understand this game I must be in luck.
Exhausted from the temptation
That I've fearlessly fought.
Content with the feelings my morbid thoughts brought;
I slice and I slice and I slice away
In love with the rubies at the edge of my blade.
You may think I'm negative,
Or that I'm not right in the head,
But the truth is I'm in love with them,
That is my blade and my red.

Slicing at me like a piece of meat
With a blade so beautifully full of rubies.
Rubies that shine readily in the light
Stained only by the blood dripping onto them with my life.
A life lost, a life to not be found
A life thrown away into a blade now laying on the ground.
"Keep me with you, keep me close," I heard in a dream...
"Don't let go, watch me slice!" It was the blade speaking to me.
It spoke with a sound so dark and devil like.
It's words were hateful and full of spite.
If it were not a blade it would have sliced the same
With those words so evilly compacted, so bane.

Bane like black rain raining on my corpse.
I have bled to death and the blade feels no remorse.
Laying next to me, my blade lies with a smile.
It has finally completed the killing of my denial.
It swims away alone in a river of my blood.
My blade leaves my flesh for the scavengers to come.
Flesh and bones are ravaged in a feast.
A feast by the scavengers that devour my meat.
Flesh and bones, no, no soul left.
Flesh and bones that their fate have met.
Flesh and bones, all already sliced.
Flesh and bones that have met my knife.