Ana Podarevska - Brittle

my nails are brittle,
so is this shell
surrounding my mind,
inside metals grind.
they want to get out,
but springs hold them back.
self-control, self-amusement
is something i lack.
what began as a look
morphed into a touch.
i have to admit,
the touch was too much.
words stuck on my tongue,
i tried to refuse.
but he knew that i wanted
and needed abuse.
can i even feel human without being used?
can i feel more robotic speaking on cues.

Ana Podarevska

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/brittle/