If they cut you…
do I  bleed?
When demanding a pound of flesh,
 do I offer mine?
No need to sweat it,
or read beneath the line.
You're dying on the inside.
Not my problem,  no crime.
Your eyes searching softness.
I grow spikes down my spine.
Keep your problems and pain,
that's  all yours not mine.
I've made my point…
Now don't cross the line!

Love… the world