Sharp was the razor blade that cut through my leg at 14,
The first sight of scarlet, trickling down my thigh
Sharp were the words I put in my head
Leaving me sleepless, and making me cry.
Sharp was what happened to me at 15,
Taking the last of my innocence away
Sharp are the emotions I endure all the time
Every morning. Every night. Every damn day.
Sharp was the knife through my wrist at 16,
Watching the blood pour out with masochistic glee
Sharp was the satisfaction of letting them get to me
Beaten only by knowing I am stronger than thee.