People say I'm multifaceted,
but they really don't know me.
I feel splintered,
cut from years
of allowing people
to abuse me,
lovers too.

Yet, I still feel
handsome on the outside.
I'm working on the inside,
looking for an
inkling of perfection
& wondering if it
really does exist.

Or, if it's only found
in the words of fractured poets.