The poem you will never read:

All around me shadows gather, and I’m left frightened of your dagger: Your knife of searing, painfull words. Stiletto prose - plunge through my soul, leaving just a gaping hole from which my essence drips to thirsty earth. I madly flail with arms held high as I reach out to crying skies, and oblivion takes my unwilling hand. My fervent plea meets callous eyes that look upon my soul’s demise. Such is your love for me.