Shuriken

Lyrics

I sleep on a loop of thin cotton thread
Pressed against your hip in the dark.
Your thumb slides in, tracing my edge,
Finding a point, making your mark.
As long as you hold me, I am your reach,
An extension of nerve and of bone.
But I know the lesson you're about to teach:
How quickly a tool is alone.

The sword at your belt gets to stay in the palm,
It drinks from the heat of your skin.
But my only purpose is breaking the calm,
And ending before I begin.
My terror is not in the wood or the flesh,
It’s the second you open your hold—
Abandoned to gravity, hoping the math
Will work before the iron gets cold.

Fifty grams of tempered iron,
A square hole punched in my chest.
I am a shadow, a fleeting siren,
Designed to distract at best.
For a moment I live in your body’s map,
A point at the end of your arm.
Then the wrist snaps shut like a heavy trap,
And I fall away from the warm.

The sword at your belt gets to stay in the palm,
It drinks from the heat of your skin.
But my only purpose is breaking the calm,
And ending before I begin.
My terror is not in the wood or the flesh,
It’s the second you open your hold—
Abandoned to gravity, hoping the math
Will work before the iron gets cold.

Four silent spins in the midnight air,
Nothing but wind on my face.
If I bury myself in the pinewood stair,
You won't even slow your pace.
You leave me behind in the cedar frame,
To wait for the turning day.
I do not carry a maker's name.
I was built to be thrown away.

You are reaching into the pouch.
The cotton thread slips.
Keep me a little longer.
Just a fraction longer in the dark.
I am out of your hand.