Cutting of the Knight

I'm cold
my hands tremble
My world is eroding
the one I've tried to assemble

when I find myself wanting
to leave this pain behind
I turn to my addiction
my sport, that helps me unwind

I close my self off from everyone
Shield myself well
Holding my guard
I live through this hell

I mount my confusion
and pick up my lance
charge at my opponent
set in my suicidal trance

I make contact
deeper and deeper I go
It all rushes out
I enjoy the blow

I win my prize of emptiness
all the blackness below
I love the end of this contention
as I love the vision of the crimson flow