Vicariously

I have come to see

I do not live for myself.

No.

Her hand guides me

this way, and that.

Trapped, Frustrated

and unable to speak out.

I cower inside myself

for fear of rejection

and confrontation.

These choices are not my own,

but I go along.

I admit,

I am afraid

to disappoint,

to go against her will,

to speak for myself.

She did not have this,

what she wants for me.

Her intentions are well,

but I hardly feel free.

I wish to spread my wings,

to be independent,

to choose my own path.

Yet,

here I sit,

silent,

and scared.

I am but a puppet.

She pulls my strings

as she lives.

Vicariously.