Inflicted Wounds

My hate and vengence Too sour a taste Your life in pinion Is nothing. A waist And a waist of time Is truly a waist I stared you down, And as we faced, On anything holy, On mother's grave, My anger stole me, I was but a slave A sharpened knife My tool, my blade Tonight's the night I dissobeyed I took a life No mercy shown Reflection cries For wounds I own