stop touching me.
please. just. don't.
your fingertips feel like lies
and I've had enough for a lifetime.
don't give me that look.
it's not you.
it's not about you.
maybe it's me.
because right now, it's everyone.
but if I haven't made myself clear enough yet
I'm a monster in every sense of the word
a frankenstein's patchwork of broken parts
from my scarred knees
to my empty heart.
walk away now.
while I've still decided to leave your legs
intact enough to walk on
and your heart beating in your chest.
stick around too long,
and you'll end up just like me.
I can promise you that.
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