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.