Bent steel still warm, tight in my hand,
Heart cold - anger blazed, its blurred where I stand.
Demon on my chest, his blood drips from my fingers,
worry whispers, but hatred still lingers.
Out of hell, were not the same,
ash in my breath, got the devil to blame.
One not enough, so in fury I swung,
blade rise and fell 'til no breath my lung.
Turned his head so I plunged his back, he be dead.
I left nothing unsaid.
Sirens crying, still blood on my skin.
War on the street. I know my battles within.
Years of this life without the cross,
I didn't just stab him - but the man I was.
Smith Shine Poetry 