The knife glides inside, barely separating skin.
So slight, at first, the pain hardly registers.
So slight, at first, the pain hardly registers.
But then blood begins to spill.
One drop. Then another. And another.
A tiny pool forming.
There is little point calling out.
Crying for clemency, mercy perhaps,
Crying for clemency, mercy perhaps,
a little sympathy might ease the anguish.
Hah! It isn't as though anyone will notice,
what with their hands stuck inside jugs.
Hah! It isn't as though anyone will notice,
what with their hands stuck inside jugs.
Words are but weapons, to wield in battle.
A shield down, they cut deeply.
A shield down, they cut deeply.
Slicing open, with no regard
to the wound left behind.
The victor delighting in the rewards.
to the wound left behind.
The victor delighting in the rewards.
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