Truth be told, I have no idea when the dagger struck.

I never felt it.

It speared through me with the force of a hurricane.

It spread through my body,

Eating away at my insides.

Filling me with poignant memories of a fearless past,

And the dull realization of a bleak future.

I told myself, I needed to thinkā€¦..

To try and comprehend the mind-boggling puzzle laid out by jeweled hands before me.

To try and decipher the secret,

And understand the un-named question.

The question that only answers itself with oblique strokes.

The question that shaped itself into a dagger,

And stabbed through my gut.

A single petal lies in sweaty palm.

The depth of its maroon velvet tickles my fingers, as they clamp hard.

Delve into beauty.

Swallow its naivite.

Bathe in sunshine.

I open white fist, and can feel innocence leak in mourning rivers,

Tracing a path over bony wrist.

And mocking itself into oblivion.

I open white fist, and expose.

Burnt Charcoal.

I lay myself down on white, pure cotton.

I feel inky black stain it through.

I tear at it with angry fists.

I scream at it with bleeding eyes.

I kick at it with bare feet.

And thus having done,

I lay myself on a bed of innocence, and silent prayers.

And close myself to harmony.

I brace the truth, and smile within.

I am Unknown.