You know, 

...

Well that's just it.

You know.

You know, and now I'm exposed.

Heart open wide,

For the world to pick at.

Like an irritated scab,

That just won't go away,

That eventually scars,

And reminds you of me.

And I hate it.

I feel hate enough.

I produce my own.

I feel pain enough.

I don't need yours.

Leave me be...

Okay?

Forget me, please...

Pleas.

Gosh. My worst nightmare.

Is probably the same as yours.

Although my reasons,

May differ...

I have so much.

So. Much.

I have so much,

To feel...

And I just can't.

Can't get the words out...

I can't think.

I can't feel.

And I can't write.

...

So I guess I'll just make a list.

A list of "I can't's"