I’m not used to being asked
For my opinion
My point of view
My thoughts
My feelings
What I want to do.
It’s not important.
I’m not important.
I don’t matter.
All my life
I’ve just been told
What to do
(Whatever you want to do)
What to say
(Whatever you say, or nothing at all)
What to believe
(Whatever you believe)

Always treading on eggshells
Holding my breath
Afraid to say the wrong thing
Do the wrong thing
Be the wrong thing
That would spark a spiteful retort
Piercing my heart
And dashing my dreams.
Acting always in fear of consequences
And never living at all