You like to mold me like I'm clay. Form me and shape me into who or what you want me to be. I'm not a puppet that you can control by my strings. You don't own me. But you see, that's where you and I are different. We're like fire and gasoline. Just waiting to set the other one off and blow up everything around us. But you like to set the trap. You douse me in gasoline and light the match that sets me on fire. When will you learn that I can't breathe in your fumes anymore?