Please, help me.

Please, Help me.

You tell me to take off my jacket, to wear short-sleeves.

‘I’m cold.’

You tell me to open up, to tell you my secrets.

I promise, you won’t know everything.

You tell me I need to speak up more.

I can’t tell you the truth.

You see, my heart is in a million pieces, 

my skin covered in scars.

‘I tripped,’

or

‘My cat scratched me.’

But if you actually payed attention,

You would know that I have no cats,

Or that I’m almost never cold.

I want to show you,

show you what I do to myself,

show you my demons.

But if I do,

 what if you hate me?

What If you think I’m insane or psychotic?

In the end, 

all I want 

is a little understanding,

and maybe some

help.