I remember when I was still smallest in the lands,
And he smiled as I held the still beating heart,
Of a gasping fish in my pretty little hands,
A ruby red ball we gleefully tore apart,
Just to drop it used, a memory now distant,
To be forgotten in an instant.

The bigger I grew,
The more transparent he became,
Once I was through,
He was always the same,
Belittling, snitching, cutting and loathing,
Yet I was the one he proclaimed danced in sheep's clothing.

As the end of my imprisonment grew near,
A golden number just a few months away,
Something broke, discretely shattering my fear,
Leaving the cold little stone for which he now must pay,
For by tarnishing my heart with his cold grimy hands,
It was a key he threw away, his arms encased in cool shackle bands.

Soon it will be I who is free,
and trapped to rot,
it will be he,
bitter, and green, he asked and he got,
he laughed when I cried,
now with no guilt, his pleas are denied.