unknown

I’d liked to believe I was doomed to be forsaken; I am cast to the edge of society—hanging on a thread of the thing you called intimacy. Perpetually demanding an inexistent entity who has no cross to bear—praying to put an end to these infinite spirals of despair. For someone to bear the weight that makes my spine throb is also to be an enemy to one and a lover to one. If loving me is looking in me through and through, then I dare you to hate me. Terrified for someone to know how my engine works—terrified to be bare naked; thus, to see the scars in my skin is to discover the broking longing within the cages of my ribs—terrified for the hurt that I never knew.