I believe that we humans all share the same ache inside, but it is experienced differently - hence we believe our pain makes our souls tattered and unrecognisable.
I'm not sure that you have pieced this together yet however, so consumed as if you've been swallowed and sit lurking deep...somewhere.
Your arrogance and unsavoury words are propelled with force, so that they might slice at my skin if they come off the tongue fast enough.
And the thing that makes us so different is what makes us much the same, except that the brightness of it burns your eyes and blinds you.
Perhaps I should embrace it as the weapon that I'm still learning how to use.
When your doubt finally strips you of every piece of armor, it will not lighten you but only make you more vulnerable.
But until that day, see me as you will - fearful and broken with a hole in my heart.
I think the thought excites you, providing a mass of glue crafted from the hate that has sedimented, and this is what fills your heart's hole at no man's expense.
Holes mend, darkest of white; especially if you tend to them for a while.
All it takes is a little growth and thus, your glue will not hold in this foul case.
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