You don't know me.
“I know you,” they say.
No, dear. You know nothing
about me. All you see is a
fake version of me that I
made, for you to not see
the horrifying creature
within me.
Even I do not recognize me.
I tried to open my flesh yet,
I see nothing but rage—regrets.
How would someone know me?
If even I cannot withstand the
details of my genes. I just wish
for everyone to not dig deeper
and see me as what I let you see.
;bleusindawn
