When the cold of solitude feels more like home than the warmth of a hug,
and the force of regret leads to
shattered glass and bleeding cuts,

I know something is not quite right,
but I can never seem to put my finger on it.

I feel like I have my own guardian angel
that only wants the worst for me.

He dances around the fine print in his contract,
letting me suffer when it's crippling
//but not fatal//