I'm a script for your fantasies.

A puppet of your desires.

A disposable mannequin for your ****** consumption.

Just masquerading as a functioning woman.

I dance for my soul.

But you are a part of that. 

I dance for you.

Toxic bitterness courses throughout my body. 

Years of poison trying to escape.

Screams echo inside, like a petulant child shouting 'its not fair'.

Picking at every fibre in my soul.  

Trying to get you out.

But every time i remove a bit of you it leaves a mark. 

A mark of you.

There was a before.

There was an innocence to my life.

I was there just to be me. 

Now i am here to be what ever you want me to be.

Your touch haunts me. 

I feel you in the most intimate places.

Possessing my soul. 

Not even a priest can save me from you.

Fragments of my soul left that day. 

But you didn't want my soul. 

You only wanted my body. 

But that wasn't all you took.

How much of me is really me. 

And how much of me is actually them.

Buried deep in every choice i make.  

If i get rid of them,  do i get rid of me.

He didn't try and fill the big gaping holes.

He stood at the entrance to them. 

Just waiting. 

Waiting for me to run back out after going in too far. 

There ready to hold my hand. 

He made it safe to explore within.

I don't want them to fill the empty parts of me. 

I don't want them in the space they have already consumed and made their home.

Yet they still crawl around my mind like they own it.

Insects that cant just be flicked off.

Filling every space,  till i become them and they become me.