To The People Who Don't Understand

To the people who don’t understand why I won’t let them touch me,


I’ve built a wall between friends, family, and others.

And fucking think again if you thought I had any lovers.

And it’s not that I think sexual intercourse is a sin,

But rather that I would crawl out of my fucking skin,

From something from the outside world coming in,

To my fucking personal bubble in which I live.


Cause my disabilities keep me well isolated,

Maybe to other people like me, the fear of death is overrated.

But I’d rather never touch another fucking living being,

Than to die from suffocation and being unable to breathe in.

Can’t you see that I’m doing this for my own damn well being,

And no one fucking understands that I’m internally screaming.


I’m aware that my anxiety over this is next level,

To the point that I can’t do anything physical.

Cause even if someone comes in for an innocent embrace,

I instantly panic and just want to fucking escape.

All I can think of is ways to die like putting a gun to my face,

Deemed completely immobile by something so commonplace.


And yes, I know, my logic in this is lacking.

And yes, I know, my thought process has no backing.

Cause I fear the way of death that has been strapped to me,

So to keep it from happening I’ll do anything.

Like kill myself in any other manner.

It really doesn’t even fucking matter.


As long as, I don’t have to drown in my own lungs,

As long as, I don’t end how it begun.

As long as, I don’t get choked by my own throat,

As long as, that doesn’t happen I’ll still have hope.


So don’t fucking touch me cause I’m untouchable,

I’d rather fucking breathe than seem lovable.


Signed Yours,

The Girl With Deadly Food Allergies


This poem is about: 
My family
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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