The boy who made
     A simple incision
     Above his heart
With the inky
Blade of a pen
Stuck a razor
          Inside,
And who moved his hand
     Like a blender
Lived to tell
The tale of
The girl down
     His block,
Who swore
     She'd be beautiful,

And laughed at
The misfortune of it all
As they crossed her arms
     And buried her when her
          Chest fell,
But didn't rise up quick enough again.