I feel my heart is as a sword;
Thrust in flames again and again,
Then beaten to a needle-sharp point
That would break rather than bend.
And the steel of my heart
Is not just hard and full of pain,
But reflects the one that is holding it’s hilt-
You wield the blade as always; I never will.
You are the smithy;
I am the creation you have wrought.
May God forgive you
What I cannot.
