Carving (Friday Night Poetry Corner #72)

Where is the knife?

I know where I last left it

Silently I walk down the stairs

Making sure not to make a sound

The stairs have aged and certain spots make a noise

But as I arrive in the kitchen

My eyes dart to the knife

Waiting patiently for me

Carrying no judgments

It fits my hand perfectly

Then in an instant I see

All the things I wish I could

Carve away from my soul

Old wounds never healed

Broken dreams weighing on my mind

Love unrequited so many times

But this knife could only bring me more pain

So just as soon as I see it I put it away

Nothing good can come from

Thinking the solution to any problem

Could emerge from causing more harm