"What are those?"
They're paper cuts
From the scissors that slipped my fingers
While I was carving a perfect picture
Of my perfect paper doll
her blonde hair
That was fair
but really wasn't
Her perfect body
No shame in looking pretty
Like the girls in magazines and movies
And her eyes
too glossy too see past her own reflection
On who she really is
And her lips
Were too perky
To reveal any secrets she had stored
And her personality
Too bubbly
To actually think of the word 'depressed'
Then her dress was stained red
Like the colors of her wrists
But you couldn't see
Because she was good
At playing hide and seek
So what were you asking?
Oh yeah they're just
paper cuts
