(in)Voluntary Marionette

I've cut my strings…

(you didn't expect

I'd change the role)

But the problem was

It was me

Handing you the control,

Begging you to make

Me dance, asking how

I could convince you to

Love me,

So you'd never leave;

A voluntary Marionette.

And there was no one “you”

But a multitude of

Men I needed to prove

My worth to:

See how useful I am?

See how pretty,

How well I perform

Under your gaze

Show me kindness, praise

And I'll be

Whatever you need.

But I emptied out my cup

And I'd never ask you

To fill it up, just hoped

You'd read my

Tired eyes well enough

To give something, anything in

Return.

No, I am not a

Martyr, just a broken hero

Who saved everyone else

Except myself

When I was the one

Tied to the track,

The knots somehow familiar

(I had a talent for

Binding myself).

Now, I'm free?

With space to roam,

No one to question or

Observe, the urge to

Justify still fresh on

My quiet tongue.

I am alone. Am I allowed

To merely exist?

A puzzle: what is

My purpose if no one

Is there to

Care for, comfort,

Support?

Who am I?

Do I finally give myself

A moment to decide

Outside of being perceived

By a watchful, critical

Eye? I am done with

Your high standards,

Your perception of my

Supposed imperfection,

The comments, the control,

The insecurities that

Convinced me to be small,

My light to dim

Under webbed ropes

That all but

Choked the life

From my lungs.

It's about time

To see how far

I can expand…

I open wide,

A force

No longer

Forced

To hide.