It's a knife that will not quit,
As the blood splats onto the marble flooring,
Tears fall from one collective sky,
As the knife cuts the blade only becomes sharper,
It cannot rest until every droplet escapes the clouds,
Each drop has seen torment,
seen people standing in front of mirrors telling themselves that they aren't good enough,
Not fitting into their standards or their little labeled boxes,
The knife can either be your box cutter,
Or your packing tape;
Better yet rip open the box without hesitation,
Everybody is acting like cardboard is Titanium.
