Dance of a Thousand Cuts

Born with blade in hand
But Lifes steel is sharp
The simplest cut begins the dance
Matters not for pain still comes

Weapon of life and weapon of body
Weaveing together since eyes first opened
Not a chance for a wound to become a scar
Once more sharpend edge meats flesh

Hearts blood flows from an opening
And another, and another
Slowly numbness spreads
Strength of the body begins to fade

Blade is nicked and tarnished
A relfection of the person who wields it
Bloodyied by this deadly waltz
Faith in this physical world all but gone

Searching deap within
Long forgotten fire found
Though the body may be weak
The will is much stronger