the puppet master

i have always been

the kind of woman who speaks

her mind even with

glaring eyes trying to

burn holes into my

golden irises

 

i have been a fighter

since birth

i fight against stereotypes

against injustice

against those who choose

to disregard my ideas

because a girl like me

should be softer

 

i have always been strong

and maybe that’s why

sitting on the dirt covered

bathroom floor

of a high school where i am

respected

known

and admired

is so foreign to me

 

maybe it’s why when i am

being yelled at

by a boy who wraps his fingers

around my wrists and

hurts me just enough

to show that he can

to show that he is the conductor

of our twisted orchestra

i stay quiet

i become smaller

softer

weaker

 

i am no longer myself

i turn into water

that he drowns me in

because when a boy i can’t let go of

twice my size

towers over me

fists clenched and

eyes darkened

i crumble

 

and i’d like to call myself strong but

if i truly were then i

would have been able to

break free of these shackles

the first time he pushed too hard

 

i am not strong anymore

i know i am not myself

i had to be told by countless amounts

of people who don’t even know me

that it’s time to rebuild

it’s time to be reborn

because bad guys don’t change in

the span of a year or

even ten years

sometimes everything you’ve heard

is true

 

you think he’s different with you

because it’s you

and he cares but

he’s different because he knows

how to play the situation

he knows how to manipulate

he has the knife in your back

and it’s been there for so long

you forget it hurts

pain is a constant that your heart

has grown accustomed to

 

but every so often he twists it

and you disregard it because

“he’s changed so much.”

you don’t think it’s an abusive relationship

because he’s never really hurt you

but treating you like you’re nothing

making you feel guilty about

his mistakes

cutting you open and leaving you

to bleed

and then coming back and claiming

to love you

is not love

 

it’s the game he lives for

he has a hold on you

and he pulls the strings whenever you try

and take a step back

he forces you to dance

to a broken melody that

he can’t get out of his head

he did not love me

he loved the reflection of himself

he saw through my eyes

he loved what i did for his ego and

i often say that my soul

longs to begin again

and he has given me the opportunity

i’ve been searching for

 

i had to be stripped of all i was

and all i could have done

to come back fresh

untainted

to build myself once more

but it’s sad because

i miss the knife in my back

i miss the pain because without it

i don’t know how to feel

my writing comes from heartbreak

and sadness became my home

 

i’ve been broken for so long

i don’t know how to be alright

and maybe i won’t be alright

for a long

long time

but at least i know now

that i was strong enough to let go.

One thought on “the puppet master

  1. Alysha,

    I loved this piece when I first read it, and every time I go back to it I just love it more and more.

    There is a rawness and honesty in your words that it so heartwrenching as well as relatable. Every line just comes as another slap in the face, and every line fits and belongs exactly where it is.

    I loved how you didn’t have any punctuation in your piece until at the end–it makes this poem even more poignant and powerful. Also, your picture is jus breathtaking because it fits this piece so well–as does your title. Everything just seems very well thought out and purposeful and that just makes it so easy for the reader to slip into your writing and get lost for a few minutes in this situation that you have so beautifully articulated.

    I have absolutely nothing to offer in terms of improvement. I just love this piece so much.

    -Hope

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