The final flicker of light from the candle
is reminiscent of the spark in your eye
that I study intently, as it fades to black
and by my own hand, I watch you die.
And here it is, my fate at last
brought forth 'neath that flickering flame.
My own eye looks unto the past
and tries to divine what you became.
What of me? You’d not possibly know. The
soullessness of me belies my eyes and you
were deceived by the inviting glow, an
unwitting performer in my macabre show.
My art I sought to teach you, the last
defense of an artists vanity, to see his
own lack of humanity passed to another,
you were a sacrifice to my hedonistic art.
Your strength was your weakness; your
desire to teach your art to me was an
open door and I stepped through. I do
believe the sacrifice in the end was you.
And now I fall 'neath your unwitting blade,
my body laid bare, the perfect canvas.
My soul cries out, guiding your hand.
Art is your master and your blade must obey.
You are a teacher in the perfect sense of your
sacrifice to this protégé, and the love of your
art becomes your demise as I put forth my new
skills and your life drains away. I must obey.
Oh, the wonders we have created, working
side by side. The masterpieces wrought of skin
and pain. I shudder with thought of our secret
sin and await the kiss of your final blade.