A mystery too deep to understand,
Like an onion of endless layers.
That's how I see myself—
Some love me,
Some would rather keep their distance.
Yet I wound those who choose to stay,
In their attempts to draw closer,
I make them cry.

They come with gentle hands
Peeling back each layer,
Hoping to find the heart of me,
But in the pulling,
In their careful search,
I sting their eyes with what they uncover.
It’s not their tears that hurt me,
But the hours they give,
The pieces of themselves they invest,
Peeling me apart,
Only to be left with more questions,
And no easy answers.

Perhaps it's not the layers,
But what lies beneath them,
That I fear.