Jumbled words

At an imaginary breakfast table, doing a word jumble while you drink orange juice.

I feel the need to apologize for the parts of me that are put together wrong.

The parts that should be soft are hard, and the hard parts are too soft.

I'm put together wrong, stitched up with worry, and I can't show skin.

Frankenstein made me, and I'm jealous of all the people that aren't inside out.

People that aren't stuffed with words, and have beautiful skin.

They're all put together right, and I'm sorry.

Sorry for the jumbled words across the breakfast table.