Unfinished Piece

I have no exoskeleton to protect
my internal organs, all of my soft and easily
damaged flesh held upright by a dangerously
breakable framework. My seat of reason
is easily swayed by wandering emotions traveling
throughout, or the slightest sense of harm
that could befall my being. I am no hero, though,
if given the chance I would make a valiant attempt
before falling into a heap. I long to connect
with others but my opinions tend to run in opposing
force to most. I want everything but I am too
scared of failure, too worried about failing to be
nothing more than a never was. I live behind glass
and observe facsimiles that are worthy of the forms
of the cave. My passion runs with the heat of a desert,
and the coolness of winter winds. I am a force
undefinable as I am strong, and as weak as I am
doubtful...