I wish I could heal you,
To bring you into my arms and soothe you, restore you,
Tell you everything kindly, gently.
But that is not who I am.
I yell out, OUT! into nothing. 'Who am I? ' 'What am I? '
Does my name, my title, mean anything at all?
Perhaps I embalm you. Preserve you.
I can stop you from falling to pieces and keep you,
Safe, in a little jar. An unaltered state.
But that is who I don't want to be.
Or am I merely a product for you,
A manufactured item made just for your enjoyment.
Keep me away from you. I am a lunar crater,
Broken! Filled with untouchable remains.
This is who you have created.