When you were little, you played with toys in this room. But now, you play with razors.
Instead of drawing with crayons, you draw with razors.
I always knew I'd grow out of my toys someday, but I never thought I'd replace them with razors.
The razors dance across my skin, carving a story only I can understand.
These razors are my toys now.
Sitting in my childhood room, blood flowing from my wrists and tears pouring from my cheeks,
I wonder why I had to grow up.