Her eyes-cool metal, dark and decorated by crushed chrome
And the gleam of titanium polished smooth for want of use
With a pale body and laser edges, skin honed sharp
A face like fate, lips of steel and a tongue like a razor blade:
When she speaks, people bleed. Some taunt her to action just to suffer the wounds-are they
Confrontation-hungry or masochistic? Does it matter?
Yet she can sheath the shrieks, if only for a moment
And it's said that those titanium eyes can warm to the touch of a hand
Fingernails tipped with terror and a stride that screams pride:
Are you a switchblade girl?
Does your smile glitter with the help of sunlight and whetstones?
Got a voice like nails (the painted or rusty kind)?
Or vocal chords like chaos?
Words with a wicked edge-do they issue from your mouth, your hands, your face, your mind?
Have you ever refused a heart because you're not a licensed surgeon
or refrained from speaking to some arrogant ass because you two were too far from an ER
(and even if you weren't, they don't make morphine for the mind-and if they did, you wouldn't pay the bill)?
Are your lies obvious by the white line they leave behind as opposed to the flesh wound of truth
Or do you tell 'em so well that the difference isn't there to tell?
Got a hardness of 10.5 on good ol' Moh's scale?
Can you radiate warmth if only you're under the right kind of light?
If you answered "yes" to any of these questions,
then miss razor edge,
you are undoubtedly eligible for a study
called "life"-who knows what they're testing?
Well, supposedly, it's
pretty heavy stuff
And I should warn you, side effects include
infiltrations (of the mind, and of other sorts)
and general bedlamite-itis
So, hey, give it a shot,
to this thing