Where is the Knife Coming From?
The slightest allusion,
Puts a knife through my heart,
And drags down,
You tell me it's annoying,
Its a knife being dragged down,
down, down, down,
into the depths of my soul,
its destroying me,
I'm loving you,
It's changing me,
Am I mad at you?
I can't be mad at you.
I'm mad at me...
I think, but really,
What am I mad at?
And where is the knife coming from?
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Comments about this poem (Where is the Knife Coming From? by Kiva Forsmark )
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