The Cure of My Rage.

I could have chosen anyone,
She could have been a princess,
She could have been a maiden,
But I chose you my lady,
As I neither wished to rule,
Nor did I wish to serve.
As I wished us to be equals,
I wished us to get one.
That you shall fill my weaknesses-
And I shall be your strength.

For I am the knife,
That could slit throats,
And turn living into carcasses.
So, I need a hand to guide me,
And make me feed their hunger & thirst.

For I am the beast,
And I could rip them apart,
Or could devour them raw.
So, I need a master,
To tame me to befriend them,
And aid them when in need.

I gift myself to thy hands,
Mend me and make me,
Every part of mine.
For I am the clay,
Worthless without touch of thine,
Make me the idol,
Make it worth, my soul.

And In return,
The pledge is that I take,
Whenever the day of sorrows comes,
I will lay my life at stake...
I won't leave you alone.
I will cease the pains,
Long before they born.
I will do what I said I would,
In case of your absence, My lady.
As I may have changed my habits,
I haven't forgotten my form.