I was born a girl of flesh only to be exposed to a world that turns humans into monsters.

I came home after months away to my parents and they found me to be a girl made of metal.
My mind was locked behind the doors of a heavy cage which had no known key
My heart pumped mercury supplied from veins of iron.
They couldn't understand me.
I was hard, I was cool, I was not young and pink as they once knew; I had changed.

I returned to my friends a girl made of glass.
They could see my warm heart pump blood in the cavern of my ribcage,
My brain was bared, the delicate thoughts within exposed to all
They wondered why I wasn't interested in the same activities anymore and I cried inside and they watched my seeping soul in disgust.
My sensitivity was confusing, they didn't like to see me bared they'd rather I cover up and keep my discomfort to myself.

I came to you a girl of paper.
My delicate skin tore every time I moved, each time you touched me.
You tried to repair my thin skin with tape but you were made of paper too and you ripped every time you moved closer to me.
Eventually you gave up, dismissing my rips to make your own repairs to the rips someone else had left your paper skin with; it wasn't your job to fix me.

When I look in the mirror and pinch my skin I find I am not made of metal or glass or paper.
But how can you convince the world you are a girl made of flesh when they only see a monster?

I am a girl made of flesh; cut me, and I will bleed.