Control

You brought me into this world so I could be my own person or so you say.

You didn’t.

You told me you loved me while pointing out every mistake I made along the way.

You told me you loved me the same but told someone else I was being brainwashed.

You told me you loved me while deadnaming me.

You told me you loved me the same and as the words left your lips they turned sour lies to me.

You only love the idea of me you designed for me, the life you wrote for me in your head.

You love the power you have over me, the way you can get into my head.

I will do anything for you, you say, but when it comes to allowing me to be my own person, you can’t do it.

And I’m sick of it, I’m sick of it all.

It hurts so much I can’t even breathe. It hurts so much I cry day and night. It hurts more than any pain you could cause my body.

But it’s worse to think of not doing this, of living my life with the mould you shaped for me.

Cause I will be living but I will not be alive.

I will be breathing but suffocating in your hands.

I will not be me, and you will be happy.

I will die and keep walking and you will be proud.

You will be proud and you will not even tell me, cause you never do.

You make me want to die. I’m living out of spite.

You have tried to shape me and broken me in the process, and you even denied me fixing.

And now I’m looking for it myself you don’t want me to, but you have no control.

Not anymore.

Now I am my own person.