Cutting Ties

A razor gleams on the bathroom sink’s edge,

its promise sharp, like a life on a ledge.

Once for my face, now a reminder of strife,

a whisper of danger, a mirror of life.

I grip it so tightly, feel the pull of the past,

as moments flash bright, but they don’t seem to last.

Each edge cuts deeper, but I’m caught in its spell—

the thrill and the terror, the stories I tell.