Moulded to Perfection

Every thought, every feeling,

spills over my face, drips from my tone,

pools at my sleeves.

I am drenched in who I am,

head to toe, a storm of raw honesty.

I wish I could soften myself for you.

But I won’t twist my words

to fit the mould you’ve made.

I will not bend my voice

to the tune you wish to hear.

I will not play the role

of the person you’ve sculpted in your mind.

I will not be put back where my thoughts withered, unspoken.