My wrist hurts.  

I feel like there’s poison in it.
Like I need to bleed it out.  
But I don’t want my insides to show.  
I don’t want to be exposed to these strangers.

They won’t appreciate the depth of my wound.  They will only see the blood,  
They wont study the biology, the beauty, the physics.
They wont know me like I do.  Me and my alien blood.  
Foreign  body,
foreign spirit.  They wont hear it.
they can’t hear me crying out,
shouting,
screaming, “free me!
Perceive me! Hold me!”  
I just choke down a sob and die.  Too slowly.  
Promises undelivered.  
Restless ideals.
Restless desires.