Who will hug the porcupine?

a simple poem for my first list

Who will hug the porcupine?

He sits there protecting his own backside
keeping himself from all forms of harm,
forming tears that constantly curse the ground.
“I’m okay.” He growls though choked lies.
Anyone that begs difference causes alarm,
he’ll stomp and kick and make such a sound.
And when he’s chased everyone away,
he sits in the corner and pull at his spines,
or try to shake them free from his hide.
He can pull some out, but many more stay.
Shaking his backside gives his face lines
and when he realizes he’s spoken lies,
that it’s contact and embraces that he pines.
Who will come back and hug the porcupine?