Who wants me? I feel like if I touch someone, that they are going to feel what I do, know what I know. I don't want that, I don't want them to touch me. I don't want someone to know the real me. I can't tell people how I feel most of the time because I don't even know how I feel most of the time.
Who wants a rose like me? Every other one is pretty on the outside and inside. I'm just the rose that had been picked too young, almost all of my petals picked off. I've been stepped on and broken. Who wants a stem?
Who wants a broken toy? All the others are fully capable of things, but I'm not so why choose me? I'm the toy that everyone uses until they are bored, then I'm just thrown away. Who wants to fix a broken toy that might not even be able to be fixed?
