Rough Around The Edges

I suppose I am a bit of a porcupine;
I am made of sharp edges,
I am not the genteel damsel people assume;
Venom is at the tip of my tongue,
Ready to burn and maim.

Cruelty is not my forte,
I prefer indifference;
It sits well with my conscience,
The coldness is not as chilling,
As being mean spirited.

This affliction goes by many names,
Avoidant, Snob, Arrogant;
I suppose it is a mixture of all of these,
A potent blend for survival,
Because that is what life teaches us.

I have wished I was softer,
A bit smoother around the edges,
But I remember, this is my armor;
It has kept me safe,
Sometimes that is all the heart can take.