I am made of softer stuff.
I am squishy;
I give way.
I can't stand on my own;
I rely on others.
I am molded by hands,
Far stronger than my own.
I brush away the words I hear;
Laugh along, though they hurt.
The blade, my addiction, calls out;
And I answer.
But that was a lifetime ago,
When I was made of softer stuff.