The cut as it happened was not quite so sore,

A sharp stinging pain at the most.

But the blood trickled down and onto the floor

Bright on the skin of a ghost.

The razor was sharp, bright pink with two blades

Used solely to bring harm

There was blood in the sink as the razor cut deep

Down into the skin of the arm.

Little did she know the cut would leave a scar for many years to come,

She would have to lie when asked what it was, unable to tell anyone.

She’ll never forget the day of the cut, the sinful, painful deed.

She hopes that one day the razor won’t come back to her arm like a trusty steed.