They face death with small slashes,
coming as close as they dare.
Their echo of heart with its ashes,
singing a dirge despair.
Have this hope, as a rope:
there's a future beyond the blade.
Take this urging up the slope;
through Love please be saved.
May your heart heal like skin
with the strongest of scars.
May the blade shatter from the din
of joy found in your heart.
Breathe fast the life, the gift to you;
ride its pain without a care.
Inspire us, to this be true;
a hero taking to the air.
We saved applause for your success,
leaving the so-sharp urge.
Face yourself, and address
why you sang that dirge.
Please have a faith to hold,
braving life's scary tides,
without the cuts be so bold;
those six-inch suicides.
© 6-23-2012
Written for the cutter. They need Jesus, also. He was cut for them as well.
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