to dance with my blade
is to taste the hell that i've made
i sit scarred to to death
holding my breath
watching the razors edge
she is standing on the ledge
the fine steel her fingers caress
i sit there a shaking mess
if a dropp of her blood it spills
myself i would surely kill
she dances on blade of knife
toying with her precious life
i lent her this tool of destruction
this tool of demons construction
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
awesome. i loved it. you rock!