I am a wordsmith and now I am making my weapon.
My mind pounds as the anvil when it sees your deception.
The fine folded edges sharper than I, when all your cries of honosty are found to be lies.
The blade so well polished, not tarnished like you.. you did the unspeakable and ruined me for you.
Hidden in its sheath, not nearly as well as your deceipt.
Handle wrapped tightly in leather, not unwound like me when I put it all together.
I am a wordsmith, they pierce oh so well, I did too much to deserve this blade I have made for my own chest.
I am a wordsmith and I have made this weapon to cut you from my heart.
Its has to be done, before you tear it apart.
