Yesterday

Bounded by the strings of parental puppeteers,
Molded and shaped by the clay I was made.
They created every thought, stumble, word, and fear,
Without protest, I just bent quietly and in silence I stayed.
A child, so naive and venerable,
Believing I could please everyone but me.
I didn’t know this made me fragile, breakable.
Blurred by their lies and parted from reality.
But divorce weighed heavy on their shoulders,
Domesticating me into a spinning frame,
Not two households but two stages.
Two masks, two characters, two people, I became,
Transitions between parents or transitions between plays.
I grew older, and the strings wore thin,
From character slip ups and wrong.
Tossing me from play to play,
Right is wrong and wrong is right.
A hurricane in my brain.
Scrambling, seething, screaming.
Chaos until I couldn’t take it anymore and SNAP!
I snapped.
The strings collapsed,
A broken toy left alone.

Today

Limp string knotted on the floor,
Dragging behind me, weighing me down.
But two pulled tight, from the sky to my core,
The deafening ripping was quite profound.
My heart, once big, was splitting,
From the force of Mother and Father.
My only escape was the day I turn eighteen,
But in the meantime I almost fell apart.
Black and white was non existent,
But lost in the grey I was washed away.
I took the blade and cut the rope which held me down,
Severing myself to escape.
Looking for love,
Only making mistakes.
Misplaced, confused.
Looking forward into a tunnel,
A speck of light guiding my way.
Hope will keep me sane.

Tomorrow

Freedom is at my grasp,
An adult subjected to nothing but myself.
No parental rule,
Just my own.
No structure but free will.
In the meantime I wear my frayed strings with pride,
To portray my story, I wear no shame.
Time ticks and the threads fade away.
Until they’re gone as if they were never there.
I am beautiful to myself, I live for me.
Just a free spirit who dances simply.