Please don't ask me to explain myself to you dear,
I'm not as put together as you imagine that I am.
I'm torn and burned and scraped and lost and more then slightly tattered.
Then again we are all a little broken
, but I can't and won't tell you just how hurt I am.
Because I don't want you to look at me that way.
The way people look at broken things
with sympathy and sadness and hints of "I feel sorry for you"
The way They look at me now...
I won't have you do the same.
If that means that I have to pull away a bit
and hide in the back of the sage.
I guess that's fine.
I just don't  want you to look down on me...
Not you too...