Untitled

I am curious  
and have always been this curious person  
I always have too many questions  
Questions no one wants to answer  
And since they haven't an idea what to say  
they just stare  
Wondering why the hell I care  
I'm wondering why the hell you don't  
For me, the answer to that question seems simple but it's not  

It's complicated, like me  
too much, like me  
 
They all said I was too much  
Felt too much, said too much, knew too much  
Imagine how that could be a bad thing?  
But it made them uncomfortable  
but how do they think I felt?  
My life left me scathed  
Skin crawling  
Repulsed by the body that houses this soul  
but what's left of it?  
When you're shredded, torn apart  
and put back together with tape and glue  
It's always there, I'm never comfortable  
 
always on alert  
ready to defend  
 
Self preservation became second nature  
and now it's my mind I survive  
I'm not there anymore, I got out  
but somehow, I never did  
It takes me on a run down memory lane  
 
Literally a run, a sprint, not a walk  
because you never walk through nightmares  
 
You run!  
You run for your life  
from the terror of your life  
You survive  
but at the end... what's left alive?