You.
Puppet master.
Ah, beautifully won.
Hitched up my strings
then cast me off;
all undone.
Fractured, shattered, soul in tatters,
you convinced me, you bastard,
that I didn’t quite matter.
Well, fuck you.
I’m no longer unraveled, unkempt,
with a heart all disheveled.
I’ve risen, alive.
I’ll no longer feel leveled.
