Blood is red.
It streams down.
In my veins it belongs,
But sometimes
Its outside.
Knifes are sharp.
They help draw it out.
Scissors are sharp.
They make clean cuts.
My life is precious,
But at the same time
It's useless.
I'm ordinary,
But I'm also weird.
I'm perfect,
But I'm also flawed.
I like me,
And I'll never die.
