You told me how my Polaroid works,
How the chemicals press themselves
Across the film
And how the light developes the colors.

You told me how to fix the AC
In my old beat up cougar,
And how to ***** on the broken door
That fell from my entertainment center.

You even told me I could fix myself,
As if you ever knew a thing about living
With a drum in your bones so loud
It awakes you in a cold sweat
Just when you thought
Monsters didn't exist anymore.

But you couldn't tell me
Why you can't mend your heartstrings,
Why your skin is always calloused
And scraped and rough
(Like a man's, you said,
Like a real man's).

You couldn't tell me the first step
To the easy fix of mending
Everything you've broken.
All you could tell me was
"I don't feel pain.
I don't feel pain."