Smile

These fists are a sword,

My leg, a guillotine, 

My feet are a mace,

My forearm is a lance.

These weapons of mine,

Making up this hollow body.

Another hollow body,

Younger than me,

No rust on his blades,

He gives a smile of daggers.

A husk,

A shattered core,

Blood on my rusted blades,

Nicks and cuts to my steel,

Another boy is gone.

I feel the strain in my core,

The creeping of ruin and rust.

Another hollow weapon approaches,

And sees the broken blades surrounding me.

He gives a smile of daggers.