Scissors Verse 1 My mirror learned a language I was never meant to speak. It conjugates in “almost,” Calls mercy something weak. Every shirt’s an argument, Every shower feels like proof. I’m collecting little verdicts From the corners of the room. I’ve stood for forty minutes With the bathroom scissors raised, Wondering if skin remembers Every cruel thing that we say. Pre-Chorus If I could cut away the parts That make me want to hide… Would there be anything left inside? Chorus I wish I could cut my sadness off Like split ends in my hair. Trim away the crooked places, Leave only someone fair. But every blade just meets the body That carried me this far. I’m trying to carve out all my flaws— I keep cutting through my heart. Tell me… Where do you begin When home Feels like the one place that’s hell to live in? ⸻ Verse 2 There’s a bruise beneath my ribcage Nobody can photograph. Every compliment dissolves Before it gets the chance to land. I fold my body into corners Like apologizing furniture, As if becoming smaller Could somehow make me pure. The scars don’t make me ugly— It’s the courtroom in my head. Every mirror is a witness. Every morning, I’m the defendant. Pre-Chorus Some days my own reflection Feels like wearing borrowed skin… How do you forgive The house you’ve always lived in? Chorus I wish I could cut my sadness off Like split ends in my hair. Trim away the crooked places, Leave only someone fair. But every blade just meets the body That carried me this far. I’m trying to carve out all my flaws— I keep cutting through my heart. Tell me… Where do you begin When home Feels like the one place that’s hell to live in? ⸻ Bridge Maybe healing isn’t pretty. Maybe grace arrives in rags. Maybe loving something broken Starts before you know you can. I don’t need a brand-new body. I need quieter eyes. A gentler pair of hands To hold this life tonight. ⸻ Final Chorus I wish I could cut my sadness off Like split ends in my hair. Trim away the crooked places, Leave only someone fair. Every blade just meets the body That carried me this far. Maybe every scar’s a sentence I was never meant to carve. Tell me… Where do you begin When home Feels like the one place that’s hell to live in? If tomorrow finds me shaking, Too exhausted just to start, I’ll try to love one inch at a time… Instead of cutting out my heart.
