if i give you a poem

know that i split open my scalp
and tore apart the pink matter
know that i crept far back and dug through the crevices of my brain
know that i stumbled into the dark, groped for words that stuttered when they tiptoed outside
tread lightly on them
for they are just learning to walk

know that retreating is addictive
and i am a creature of habit
know that camouflage is not always my forte
and i am better at hiding
know that i am ashamed when you look at me
and see
that my sky is always pink, my grass always lavender, my sea always crimson

know that i am ugly
and that i have tore off my face and rebuilt it so many times
i hardly recognize myself
know that my insides are clogged
know that my lungs are stuffed with shrapnel and my heart is bursting with debris
and that nothing runs through my veins

know that this is all i have left
this thing,
falling out of my chest, spilling over my lap, collapsing at your feet

know that it is yours now

do what you will.