I feel like a puppet on a string
I am being controlled from within
I am unclear sin
Why don’t you throw me into a rubbish bin

I am a lost piece of baggage
I am static, waiting in transit to be collected
Yet, I gather dust
I hope I don’t rust

I am crushed into a cupboard where my strings begin to lose the strength to find the clean air
I don’t mean to stare but I am dreaming in past when I was a bubbly kid who grew up too quick

I became thin and the demons where crawling in my skin
Unpinned from within
I lost belief
I retreated back into my wooden frame and the strings controlled me once again
But, remember things don’t stay the same
There will be days of pain
One day, I will regain the strength to cut the strings which have held me prisoner for so many years

I will not fear or disappear
This year is different, full of hope and joy
Under the pain I will smile each day and not fade
I will fly away on an airplane and reclaim my brain
I will live again

© Rosie Burnham