My Good Friend

The razor dances its way into my hand
Begging me to be its friend again
I try to refuse its welcoming gaze
The way it tempts me with that shinny sly smile
My eyes drawn to the way it taunts me
My hand flipping it through my fingers
Oh what do i do?

I'll just give in
This one time
It will be the last I swear...

The razor is still in my hand
Waiting to connect with me once again
A smile slithers its way across my face
As the sweet kiss of the blade hits my skin
A chill runs down my spine
Slight pressure
And it gives me what I want
Being the good friend it always was
That crimson liquid that runs down my arm
Is bliss to me
I ask for more
And it gives me what I want