When the self turns inward, the sharpest blade is awareness.

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I want a sharp knife;

the sharpest of all I have ever seen in this life

A knife with an ivory grip and a gleaming edge;

engraved with obscure ruins, carrying a death pledge

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I want to plunge it into my belly;

slicing it across, all through the quivering jelly

Cutting open myself and savoring the soothing pain;

smelling the oozing blood and enjoying the red rain

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The steaming guts will spill out;

and so will the coldness, without a doubt

I want to confront the coldness under my skin;

I so want to face the raging darkness within

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I want to feel their texture and what makes up my core;

the ice-cold mercury seeping out of each pore

I so want to sense their force, so binding and so freeing;

their powerful darkness vibrating in my being

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I want to question them all, the unanswered queries;

hanging in balance, the forever silent juries

I want to challenge them all, the reservoirs of valor;

forever loud but hollow, the reds masking my pallor

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Why do you reside within me?

Perhaps two despising lovers smiling with glee?

Or are you sent by my respectful adversaries,

not really bothered, and just two emissaries?