I’ve spent too long
locked in this dark
tower
Thinking myself a
damsel in need of
rescue.
But I’m remembering now
I’m a warrior
And capable of
saving myself.

You can’t put bandages
on my scars
and expect it to
heal the hurt
Where were you
when I was
bleeding?

Independence was a seed
planted in me at an
early age
Cultivated in the soil
of indifference and
apathy
Watered by disappointment
often until I lost all
hope in people
So I am sorry if
I have never needed
you in the way
you've wanted
My tree does not
bear the fruit of
weakness

Paint by number
your colors
just like everyone else.
But do not color
outside the lines.
There's no place for
extraordinary.

Shove the clay
of yourself
into a mold that
doesn't fit.
But do not dare look
for another one.
There's no place for
individuality.

Write out the story
of your cliché life
just like all the others.
But do not make
any revisions.
There's no room for
originality.

You always preached
about burning bridges.
Voice laced with warning.
But here I stand.
A handful of matches
and gasoline.
With my chin held
high.
Ready to reduce you
to ash.

I wear this costume you
provide
And recite the script you
wrote.
I shove myself aside
to live in the shadows of
this person you created.
I live this lie daily.
With no breaks in character.
Have I pleased you yet?
Are you satisfied with
my performance?
Now that I've changed myself
for your enjoyment,
do you love me?
Because I'm *******
dying.

Devastation is
realizing you’ll never be
enough for yourself.