My life is a work of art
But it has never been scripted for you.
It doesn’t have to taste sweet on your tongue.
It doesn’t have to be soft or comfortable.
You do not even have to enjoy it.
No.
My life is not for you to consume numbly.
It is not meant to be a safe space for you to form opinions.
I am still carving out the obsidian I’m crafted from.
And I do not have to listen to you to know where to chisel.
I have never written for you. Or loved for you.
With you maybe, but not for.
My life is not meant to be eaten like an apple
Whose core is too harsh.
I am poison.
And I never told you to taste me.