The Witness

I stole a pen
I gave a knife
I wrote a poem
I took a life.

I carved her chest
I lit a paper
I built a box
I kept her safer.

I stained my words
I spilled her blood
I gave it meaning
I took her heart.

I had a title
I sewed her in
I made it rhyme
I cried within.

I built my words
I scarred her skin
I felt them heavy
I dyed her with ink.

I opened the crate
I ended my ode
I laid next to her
I got all I sought-

Ink and blood!
Ink and blood!
The ballad of the pen;
the ballad of the knife.