Help…

Come. Find me in my most exposed state. Uncovered and unconscious and unknown. Take me in with your eyes, first. See my flaws. My tattered exterior. My torn flesh.

Breathe the scorn that aerates around me. Can you stand the smell of brokenness? Or is it too strong? Can you handle the sound of judgment surrounding me? Or is it too loud?

Will you stay with me until I awaken? Will you stay to see if I awaken? Or are you too afraid of the eyes fixed on my contorted limbs? Are you afraid those eyes will turn towards you? 

Are you too afraid to lift me up? Too scared to cover me with your clothes. Too scared to wrap me in your arms. Are you afraid of getting dirty? Are you afraid you might break my fragile body? Or afraid you may break a nail?

I lay nearly lifeless on the curb.

Do you stop to see if I’m alright? Do you stop to ask who I am? Or do you not stop at all?

Is it my fault I was thrown away? Or is that how life dealt my hand? Is it your fault I’m still laying here? Or is it not your hand that should be held out?

You came. You found me in my most exposed state. I’m uncovered, unconscious, unknown. You see my bare flesh, battered and dirty. My eyes closed.

Now what?