Every time someone touch's me I flinch..
I set back I step back and gush..

I fall in love but they shouldn't get to know me much..
If I get too exposed, I end things and run back to my bubble..

Not from mother nor from father, "Love" was never spoken to my ear..
perhaps that's why I cannot say the word even at this year..

So many knives at my back and face
Now when they give me a flower I wouldn't know what to make of it.. I tend to destroy both the giver and the flower in a quick defense fight..

Bricks at the base, stones at the top, plastered in sound proof cushions..
The walls I had built to show how strong...