Mike Ashkewe

I am forged in fire and given shape by hands who craft me for survival to feed the hungry and war’s fury plunged into the heart of a foe.
A tool to some.
A weapon to others.
Instinct runs through your boiling and screaming blood.
I am perfection honed to an edge so sharp that Gods and mortals alike will be cut.
At your side or in your hand, you guide me as you see fit without judgment or prejudice.
Do you make a decision that will ripple throughout the life around you?
I have been made of obsidian and of iron mined from the Earth itself.
Do I aid in your survival or do you use me to take life?
Countless souls have fallen before my touch and many more will come after them.
Do you give into the whispers of blood shouting in your ear or give mercy an audience?
I am only an instrument who plays through a symphony of blood.
Your muscles tighten and I await with anticipation.
Give yourself over to me and I will give you what you want.
The moment passes and the impulse subsides
Know that I am there just beneath all your civility.
I am passion, I am vengeance, all i need is your thirst to be quenched for us to be satisfied
We will meet again someday like old rivals and even friends.
Your restraint can only go so far.
I know all your darkness and i know what price you’ll pay
Your lies of forgiveness will be broken
You cannot resist me forever