Life is a gift
A present wrapped in suede
Some open it with fingertips
Others, with a blade

Some cast their teardrops
Leaving tiny stains
Why do this to your gift?
Look at what remains

Discoloring and indents
Scathed atop the box
Whilst the ribbons gone untouched
Still tied in valiant knots

How could you complain
When you don't know what’s inside
The package, glazed with stains of blood and tears
And the ribbons still untied

 
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