"there are no strings on me"

where has the time gone? 

or, where have I gone? 

the words I used to fill up pages with...they run from me. 

as much as I chase and I trap, they slip away- 

like dreams you can reach but not quite hold. 

they evade me endlessly. 

staring at a blank page is like a mirror into my mind. 

when I need the words, 

all I hear is laughter at my failed attempts. 

when I need the silence. 

it's as if my thoughts can be heard out loud and are yelling. 

shouting and screaming around me. 

somehow the fog is lifted and I am flooded with "what ifs" and "I should have's."

maybe I think too hard. 

or do I not think hard enough?

do I push myself to the edge where there is nothing left to say? 

or do I hold myself back so nothing can be said?

I hold my tongue so much it is like a reflex. 

I try to talk and suddenly I am not in control of my strings. 

I would like to cut those strings, 

be a free boy. 

but I am not a boy, am I? 

I am a woman. 

I was born with strings. 

my every move is dictated by those pulling the strings.

I am like a puppet, 

poked and prodded at, 

told what to be and how to be it. 

but even Pinocchio becomes a real boy.