The Cage


Some days these words you speak

fly at me, attack me

leaving me overwhelmed, bleeding.

These weeks my heart is overloaded

by your cutting tongue,

your biting opinion of what is right

and what is me.

 

These months as they so happen to be,

you lock me in a cage, a cage comprised

of my own shortcomings--

for surely they are mine.

These years go by and my heart sinks lower--

it threatens to drown in my sear of tears.

And still your binding words cut

and I bleed.

 

Forever, I am sure it has been now,

Always I will be here--

a worthless toy for you to complain about.

Ever will I be wrong, and you right.

My lack of strength, lack of wit, my lacking's all in all will keep me here--

I shall lock my own cage.

This poem is about: 
Me

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