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I can be used for simple things, Carving, cutlery and pain. Doctors use a form of me, when they cut into your brain. I’m used in art, as both the method and subject,
I'm always smiling. I am beautiful. My heart is not broken. I'm fine. These are not tears. I do not miss you, nor do I need you.
Smooth wooden handle 6 inches, nearly 10 when flicked open to reveal stainless steel The blade marred only by a few oily fingerprints and a speck of brown It smells of dust and of dried blood
Over the course of time I’ve caught a couple knives in the back From a couple friends I thought it was kinda weird how they thought It would feel good
I was young, and DUMB.
He is laced with lies I was forced to sew underneath his skin. I am an open book ready for her to rip the pages he so carefully inked. She is a blade sharpened by the years of trust issues and lack of love.