When we met I was wet clay
Easily moldable into your desired image
Criticized from every angle
Turned and turned until I had forgotten who I was
And instead became what you wanted me to be
Usable
Expendable
Quiet
Your fingers prodded and pressed into every inch of me
Squeezing and judging until I couldn't breathe
Used until you deemed me useless
But by that point my clay had already hardened
And I'd become someone I no longer recognized
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Comments2
Excellent.
Thank you Thomas!
A good example of fatalism.
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