Knives may draw blood,
but what are tears?
Tears are the life of the soul,
flowing from holes in the heart.
Wounds that are made by a different knife.
A knife forged in cold rage and blazing hate,
made from jealousy and prejudice,
wielded by the talons of man and fate.

Tears flow from cuts deep within,
underneath flesh, bones, and blood.
Cuts that cannot be seen,
but nevertheless real.
Wounds that bleed but never heal,
injuries that foreshadow death.
After time the flood became sluggish,
then altogether stopped.
Inside the soul,
all is empty and desolate.
With a shudder the soul drew in its last breath,
then collapsed into dust and shadows.
The body is now a husk,
no emotions nor thoughts.
The knife of hate has done its job,
but its hunger cannot be sated.
It will seek out its victims by race,
and when we are gone and eradicated,
then it will rest in its sheath.