Without a thorn
You held the axe
I came to you when I was wounded
Bloodied and in need of asylum
"It isn't finished," you said
"Your wounds. They could be worse."
And then you swung
You swung
Smiled. Nodded. Walked away with satisfaction.
I ran about
Headless like a chicken
Stumbled into the next one
"I am not WHOLE!" I cried
He balked. He laughed.
"You look fine to me"
And I was puzzled
You stood near, watching
All this time telling yourself, telling me
I was better for what you did
That you saved me from the Awful Monster
So silent, I sometimes question his very existence
The blood ran down my arms
I tried to hold myself together
But I couldn't
I can't
The beheading, you made it complete
Every scream was silence
And every time my feet would move
They could only trace a circle
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