Switchblade

She'll be destroyed in the near future
I can observe this and I know
Because I am she, years from then

If I could talk to her, well
I'd give her a switchblade
And tell her to be more cut-throat

"This is for your benefit and I would know." I'd tell her

Life is cruel
May as well destroy her then
Her innocence and sweetness won't protect her

I'd tell her that her future
Isn't very bright
And that being cut-throat will be a tad more useful

Life will be cut-throat to her

She'll be someone's cashcow
She'll be someone's scapegoat, an easy target, prey
Those things would be endless

The list could go on

I'd give her a switchblade

Tell her that being sweet won't help her
Tell her to freeze her heart
To hold few close

It'll hurt less

I'd tell her that she'd hate affection
And that she should stop giving it
And that she shouldn't have given it at all

I'd tell her that she's despise her blood
Her blood's a poison, a fluid with disease coursing through it
A disease that cannot be purged nor cured

She's stuck with it and she'll despise that, too

I'd give her switchblade
Something to protect herself
Something to keep the monsters at bay

I'd tell her that her future holds little promise
That she'll be stabbed in her back and left to bleed
That betrayal and hurt would become so common that she'll know nothing else

That she'd find animalistic rage, a rage pent up, to be solution for many things

A switchblade to cut
To mutilate, destroy
To sever, to spill blood

I'd give her a switchblade

As she'll wish, many years later, that she had one then