I feel the glint 

The sparkle to the edge

Razor sharp, lancing through 

 

Penetration of the intended 

 

The verbal lancing of your boil

Of the festering puss

The discharge of your resentment 

 

The relief you have, I need too

 

Eyes  rage

Faces bloom, the crimson colour 

Of hate

 

We fail to negotiate 

 

Fists fly

Blood splatters

We both lose

 

to win does not matter