scar.

so the next one came along with a bag of treats, he smelled like
sugar and spoke like the sea. he said don't trust them, trust me.
then he pulled at my stitches one by one, looked at my insides
clicking his tongue and said "this will all have to come undone."
a triangle trying to squeeze through a circle. he tried to blunt me
so i'd fit. doesn't that sound familiar? doesn't that hit too close to
home? doesn't that make you shiver; the way things could have
gone? doesn't it feel peculiar when everyone wants a little more?
and so that do remember to never go that far, could you leave
me with a scar? i think i realized just in time, although my old self
was hard to find. you can bathe me in your finest wine, but i'll
never give you mine. because i'm a little bit tired of fearing that
i'll be the bad fruit nobody buys. tell me, did you think we'd
all dream the same?