she said i look like the ghost of a man of a man she used to knoe but i'm not a man never have been so how could i be the ghost of one strip me down my heart is made of odd little bits of meat and held together by hope against hope and pieces of my sleeve i am a slave to so many things i've been branded by people i've never seen could never pretend to be safe and warm when i'm always worrying about being sold away if i could take this all in stride would i still be dying this way if i lied could i convince myself that your abuse didn't mean anything to me