The height to my ear.
Wielding its handle
I felt empowered.
Throwing my hands, interlocking
Its lonely handle crying
in its coldness and loneliness.

A tyrant's strength
You swing with my madness.
Only to be lost
and feel helpless.

Feelings of void without you in my hand,
I get drowsy of your different kind of
coldness and loneliness.

I lose my voice.
At a man wielding you,
I drown to the demons screeching in my sleep.

I see you in my dreams
and I spend
A little time to love your edges and scars,
or your weaknesses and problems there.
You are my sword, you are my strength.

I give my silent white flag
to the sounding rejection of excalibur.
My tired grip to pull you from your solid bed,
I lost my strength as I lose you.