Please, take time to see through me;
see through my skin.
Am I enough now?
Am I what you need?

Please, stop running away
and breathe me all in;
until nothing’s left of me.
Do I make you feel alive?
Or do I make you bleed?

Never have I screamed so loud
to be noticed, my dear, I’m usually
the type who goes away;

But let’s just
put it this way:

I am merely a flower
you never bothered to pick;
because there are others
more pleasant
and less broken
than me.