Acute awareness of the pain,
that cuts deeper than a knife.
The pain of being held,
against your will, but a dog on a leash.

Caught in four walls, alone,
lost in shadows of strife.
You sent me here on a whim.
Your word supported with an iron fist.

I know they're your rules,
and I know it's your house.
Know this, I need my space,
I can't stay trapped forever.

Stuck, under your controlling hand,
suppressed by silent glances and an acid tongue.
I rebel to gain freedom and lose more.
I will leave, I will break free.

I’m not bonded by blood,
but have to act ass if I am,
I understand I’m extra baggage
but you agreed to that, remember, “I do”.

You play your silly games,
sitting on your lofty throne,
and call me childish, idiot,
because I won’t play along.

I know it sounds angsty, rebellious,
but that’s just how I feel,
not that you care much,
it’s how I cope, with my ordeal.

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed