I am not some bug to be kept in a jar
Just so you can tap the glass
And watch me squirm around.
I managed to worm my way out
From under your bloated thumb
And metamorphosised
From the fragile moth
With the wings you pulled off
Time
And time again
Into something
With a backbone
That will bite that hand that feeds her
If it's joined to the mouth
That fed poison into her ears
In the manner
Of Claudius,
(Shakespeare’s infamous snake-tongued king of stolen crown),
Causing her skin to
Rot and
Fester
With every
Wayward glance at
Her reflection.
The mouth
That hid blows
In honeyed words;
Every nearly-aced report card
And shiny new “Participant” ribbon
Met with
“That’s great.
But,
You could do better.”
You laid eggs
Of doubt and anxiety
So deep in my brain
I may keep discovering them until
The world drowns in endless void, and
My new spine turns to dust.

k.f.