Everyone comes from somewhere
You came from a mother with arms wide open offering you love and care and well my origin was not so nice and fluffy.
I had no mother just a maker who crafted me from metal and wood
I was made with a purpose of assistance to those of your kind
To help you eat or open or even protect if I could but you,
You little girl with your sad sad eyes had a different darker more damaging purpose in mind.
You awoke me in the deep of night and I saw your glistening eerily glowing tear stained eyes and I wanted to help you,
to take the sadness away so I let you take me
knowing you wanted me to help keep the demons at bay
You see your mother comes down sometimes at this hour looking to eat away her woes and well I help her because after all that is my purpose.
But you
You little girl passed the fridge right by and walked into the bathroom
and locked the door
and closed your eyes
And whispered to me, I need you to help me feel alive
And all Of a sudden you pressed me to your soft white wrist an began to drag me across
and I tried to cry out, to tell you to stop,
But your ears were deaf to my desperate cries and as soon as the blood started so did the lies.
You thanked me softly as you looked down at my blood slicked blade.
Told me I had brought you Into the light and out of the shade but I was dirty, I was an accessory to the murder of a soft and tender skin
and then by far the worst part you leaned in and whispered "I can't wait to do it again"
and I tried I tell you no it should never happen again but you didn't listen
I asked you once why you make us do this terrible thing night after night and to my surprise you replied and you said
"Because I'm so tired"
And at first I was confused but I began to understand as night after night I listened to the memoirs of the misused.
It all started with unforgotten years of being sentenced to stoning by solitude
and hung by the judgement of strangers
and you never dared hope for justice because verbal battery
no matter how threatening to the innermost life light of the soul
Is a charge no jury of peers will choose to convict If they have the option of joining in on
yes your minds bones have been broken and your spirits muscles torn
and your eyes have been made to see only what they see so no beauty, inner or outer, is displayed on your retinas.
It has been three months since that first late dark night but I remain in that bathroom hidden from sight
but I need not wait long because I can hear you coming now,
softly treading the pitch black path to our undiscovered nightly crime sight.
But tonight as you raise me up I catch a glimpse of your wrist and it makes me cry out
three months twelve weeks 84 days
and your wrist is not just scarred but maimed and it is not just you nor just I but we who are to blame.
But tonight is different because as you bring me down to your wreckage of a wrist,
you do not say your usual thank you,
but instead you say
"Goodbye my friend"
Lift me up, slash deep and twist
From my accursed task I have been officially dismissed.