On the tip of a knife we existed,
in a sliced piece of life like no other.
On the tip of a knife we were balanced,
as to not draw the blood off each other.
On the tip of a knife we agreed on
the terms and conditions of being,
we took breathes with closed eyes to feel that we are,
because it was better than seeing.

On the tip of a knife we were conflict,
we were not in one mind and we hurt every thought.
On the tip of a knife trust was breached,
and now you are
what I am not.

This is not a pipe
I really enjoyed this piece, I really liked how it developed. It was just very well written, nice work!
You and I are mortal, but rock n roll will never die.
This is great. Ambiguous and meaningful (how I prefer my poetry). I don't have much to say, sorry. I wouldn't change anything about this at all. Nice job. If you would like to take a look at/comment on mine, that would be sweet.

the repetition is overused, take it down a notch and you'll have a better piece, as it stands it's like getting smacked in the face with a hammer.
^ Agreed. (excluding the hammer part).
Today I feel electric grey
I hope tomorrow, neon black
I think I liked this more how it was when you originally showed me, it said so much with so little. Here, it really does just feel like too much within the small confines, it does begin to drag a bit by the end.
I liked this quite a bit. The only line I'd change is the "we were not in one mind and we hurt every thought," part; it seemed out of place with the flow to me. Then again, this isn't my piece. Overall, it was very powerful without using loaded words or too much whining. Nice.