A Cutters Poem

My sweet, fall slowly into the darkness
Take up this dream made in reality's likeness
Welcome the emptiness's soft embrace
Sleep in this warm, forgotten space

My child, accept the lingering fog
Befriend the stealthy creatures of the bog
Find comfort in the gathering silence
find relief in the situations, tense

My darling, would you challenge the winds that blow?
Then do not fight the only thing you know
Do not be ashamed of the cuts you made
Reside in the solace you derive from your blade