Paper Cut

I have been used and used and misused. Now I am completely stagnant. My one function was sharp, to the point, but even that became dull. I envy the one who sits warm in the palm of your other friend. I watch as he glides across those wrists – straight; precise. My role was simple; consistent. The pain I tore through was crimson, then became black and blue. Yes, I am still here for you. My task was delicate – one slip could misplace a life. Just use me; you DO hurt. My blade stings, but I will prove it still works. Last night you glanced at me, and I tingled in anticipation. But you chose Him again. Paper cuts feel better than my let down expectations. Who is this He that you cling to, to soothe your worries? You've risen above, and you found love. Don’t you remember me? I did my job keenly, I had but one use. But you've grown too wise to use me.