Her mouth was an empty cut,
And she was waiting to fall;
Just bleeding like a polaroid.
My name is Jen.
I have a lot of flaws, scars, and insecurities.
I do notice when these are scrutinized.
There's a reason for my inability to love myself, a reason for why I don't like being touched, a reason for why I'm skittish. And wherein, lies the reason why I cannot trust easily, nor blindly, nor fully. I have little faith in humanity. And I'd rather perplex others with these commodities than indulge them in the less-than-pleasing "whys".
