The Razor's Edge

A whisper sharp, a cutting word, A silent scream, unheard, unblurred. The venom drips, a subtle sting, Leaving wounds that slowly cling. No bruises show, no broken bone, But spirit crushed, and hope is flown. A constant rain of bitter scorn, A soul eroded, worn, forlorn. The razor's edge, unseen, unknown, Yet deeper cuts than any stone. The heart it breaks, the mind it bends, A silent torment that never ends.