{"sf1_id":474872,"sf2_id":"k1VMKW0n","title":"Where is that knife now?","author":"SilverwraithStar","words":321,"posted_at":"2012-12-16T04:59:00.000Z","tags":["Back-stab","Blood","Depression","Gothic","Poetry","knife"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/474872-where-is-that-knife-now","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/k1VMKW0n","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/5e/8f/5e8f1b03-a7ca-4e1d-93b5-20caf0340729","description":"#1 of Poetry\n\nThis had been a poem I wrote about six months ago when I had been depressed. I can only seem to write poetry when my emotions stand strong.","content":"You had promised to take the knife out  \nYou ask, where is that knife now?   \nThe knife, you so called 'yanked out'  \nWhen all you did, was twist and deepen the pain  \n  \nAll I was.. was a pawn in your game.   \nYou ask me, where is the knife now?   \nThe one.. you so called ripped out..   \nWhen you walked to my backside.. laughing at my pout.   \n  \nI turn around, blood running down..  \nMy heart racing, you ask me..  \nWhere is that knife now?   \nYour smile, so caring and daring..  \n  \nYet, behind that mask.. Is a sinister grin..  \nOne that would tear me apart and wear me thin.   \nMy heart.. was played with once again.   \nYou knew this whole time, when you asked... Where is that knife now.   \n  \nYou would see and wait, if I would lie and beg..  \nSee me wallow in self pitty, and drag my feet to bed.   \nMy hair, falling and matting in my face..  \nRed tears steaming down my cheeks..  \n  \nYou ask if I'm blushing..   \nI say yes, when I know it's not true.   \nYou think you won, but I'll turn the tables on you.   \nWhat you don't know, is I play a little game myself.   \n  \nI know how to wreak havoc and hell.   \nRegret and misery is my pleasure.   \nI take the knots, and tie them together..   \nI fasten them to your waist so tight.. You scream in fright.\n\n\u0026nbsp;Revenge.. is my friend.   \nYou aren't the one who took the knife out.   \nYou give me that little puppy pout..   \nAsking me.. Where is that knife now.   \n  \nUnexpectedly, I pull it out.   \nRunning my tongue along the fine, blood blade..   \nA sadistic smile crosses my lips..   \nI'm the one that pulled it out.. Not you.   \n  \nI now ask you..   \nWhy did you play the game?   \nWas it because you wanted fame?  \nOr to loose to me, at the end..  \nI realize this...  \n  \nWe're both truly the same.  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"Poetry","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/474873-my-ending.json"}}