The Ivory Knife

***This poem is more of a story then anything else. It will take a minute or two to read, but I think you\'ll like it. Here ya go***
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The man was tall and lean and wore a fine tailored black suit with a red silk tie. He wore black shades that covered his eyes which were a deep blue. Short black hair moved silently in the cool breeze as he stood in the middle of a golden wheat field. He was alone as far as he could tell, which made it so much the better, he supposed.

The man vaguely wondered why he was standing here, looking at the waves of a golden sea lit in the sunlight. He couldn\'t seem to grasp a single coherent thought as he stood staring down at his hands. Each one was long and thin; a ghostly white in contrast with this clothes.

-Is this me? Am I this body, or is this just a dream?-

His hands started to tremble as he took off his suitcoat and unbuttoned his black satin shirt. The coat, shirt, and tie all fluttered away in the wind and the man watched them until they vanished on the horizon.

-Dreams-

He now stood half naked, with only his black pants and shiny black shoes. He felt his chest gently and sighed. He took off his sunglasses and dropped them to the ground.

-Was there anything left? How could it come down to this?-

Silently, he dug into his right pant\'s pocket and pulled out an ivory pocket knife. His eyebrows creased as he inspected it. His friend had just sharpened it for him a few weeks ago, but he hadn\'t used it at all. His friend had given it to him as a reward or something; he couldn\'t remember. Maybe it was for getting saved...Yeah, that was it.

The man sunk to his knees in the trembling grasses. Why did it have to come to this?

A tear slid silently down the man\'s pale cheek. He licked his dry lips with a hesitant tongue. With a small click he opened the little white knife. The blade gleamed in the setting sun\'s light.

-Why? What would\'ve happened to me? What wil happen to me?-

His hands trembled...He brought his right hand, the one that held the knife, over to his left arm and slowly drew the blade across his skin. There was no blood.

-I have no heart! I must, though. Deeper...just a little bit deeper...I know there is a heart in here-

He jabbed the tip of the white knife\'s blade further into his flesh. Red blood oozed forth and trickled down the side of his forearm.

Yes...he did have a heart. And he was damned for all eternity.
-I am alone...There is no one here but me-

Another tear fell down his cheek and soaked his chest. He licked his lips again and drew the knife upon another spot and made yet another clean cut. More blood bubbled up out of the wound.

The man repeatedly made cuts, and when his left arm showed no new place to mar, he started cutting himself everywhere. He hurried his work fervently, slashing his chest and making gouges in-between his ribs.

-I have a heart! Those bastards knew it. I am changed now...they will see. I have a heart; I am perfect! I am damned, just like they should be. I see no God. They are hypocrites.-

He held a handful or blood in his hands and poured it over his head.

\"See, I\'m covered in my blood now! It\'s what you want, isn\'t it? ISN\'T IT?!\" He screamed out loud. Blue veins surfaced on the man\'s face as he continued screaming. He thrust the white pocket knife into his belly button and screamed anew.

Then he fell to the red stalks of wheat and sobbed uncontrollably; occasionally saying things like, \"How could it end like this?\" and \"I have a heart, see...see.\" Until he breathed no more.

From the sky fell his black satin shirt and red silk tie. They landed silently and covered the man\'s torso and face gently. The white knife turned into nothingness and disappeared, leaving nothing but it\'s history behind.