The Assassin's Curse Poem by Anushna Satapathy

I bury into flesh,
Hungry for action,
It gives way under me,
And then it bleeds.

My victim cries out,
In pain and misery.
My master cries out,
In pride and elation.

The tangy feel of blood,
Sliding down in rivulets,
Makes me glad, it makes me happy,
It drives me into a blood soaked frenzy.

My master is the wielder,
I, the instrument,
Of death, spread far wide,
You do not want to meet us at night.

My body shines bright,
Silver in the sunlight.
A savage bloodthirsty gleam,
In the center of my right eye.

I am the assassin's knife,
I am the assassin's curse,
I am the assassin's absolution,
Indeed, I am the assassin.