Am I contagious?

They seem to avoid me like a virus,

And look at me like I’m outrageous,

With a bitter sense of highness.

Before you touch me,

You need to scrub in,

Use the soap and count to three,

And treat me like I’m vermin.

I’m just a nasty disease,

With no one to look after,

No room for worries,

When I’m preparing for the rapture.

My whole life I’ve been told,

“You better stay away”,

I’ve never been seen as gold,

And I expect it to stay that way.

I’ll always be unwanted,

Unloved and undesired,

My mind is haunted,

Because of the way that it was wired.