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I curl up often
Feeling one layer roll over and mask the other is comforting to me. It’s familiar. 
I rarely open up and show but when I do I’m vulnerable and open. You could kill me. 
You held me long enough that each layer receded until you saw just me, and now I’m left here, raw and scarred and bleeding. I hurt too much to curl, to hide. 
Is this what you wanted? To take each hope I had, to steal my self worth and self love. To diminish any chance I had at trusting another. You engulfed the trust I had, not only in you but in humans like me and you, how can I tell good from bad now. I can’t. You got what you wanted now leave. So I can eventually pull my pieces together, lick my wounds clean and recede into myself to never be opened again. Until the next time I’m destroyed all over, by another like you.

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