The words you said still hurt my veins,
Like the folding origami paper in my hands
Falling apart due to my imprecision -
The scissors tracing the thin skin of my wrists,
Electrifying the air in an instant;
The ticking clock inside my nail care pack,
The sharpness caressing my chest

The images conjured dance in the dim light,
My skin tingles in anticipation -
Once I am free, I will break it with pride,
I will paint myself red and purple;
Until then, you may fold my will
To your liking and likeness alike,
But once I am free, I will show you as well
That your words still hurt my veins