external organs

i am made up entirely of feeling. those
whose hearts are permanently inside out
tend to suffer their organ being battered
and beaten. on display for all to see my
patchwork soul is threadbare and weary.
one more shot i will soak up my own blood
once more if you wring me out my stitches
will come undone my tendons will rip and
the fabric that holds me together will fall
apart.
be gentle with me, my calluses only go skin
deep and i have grown tired of being a
human shield.