Scissors

They found you shivering cold and alone,

   Atop a hill in a fortress of stone

Gave you a home and a bed to sleep,

   Wiped yours tears when you would weep

Made you smile from ear to ear,

   Took away all that you fear

Until you cut them and made them bleed,

   Down to the roots just like a weed

The wound was too deep to ever heal,

   And you were the monster who could not feel

Back to the castle, back to the cold,

   Where you belong until you grow old

Hold tight to your memory as it wilts and withers,

   Unable to hold more because your hands are scissors

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Published by Charlie Layman

I like pro wrestling, Star Wars, fighting games, and martial arts movies. I have twelve years experience in grocery stores and eight in inventory for metal fabrication. My dream is to write full time as a career.

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