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For Myself

For Myself
Eleanor Dart

It’s hard enough for you to say, ‘I love you,’
Even more difficult to say when it’s not true.

I bled your name once,
As you controlled me with your strings,
The ragdoll you created,
Who was forged by your gaze.

I would have ripped those stitches apart,
But that’s what you’d want, I know,
The sympathy, the sob story,
Your prize.

Don’t take me for a fool,
You’re no god, no friend, no family,
A mere manipulative man,
With seam rippers for teeth.
I tried to leave you some rope, But you cut it in two.

Cut in two like I’d thought you’d do,
When I said I was through,
With the lies, the torture,
Your torment.

Because I learnt, to care for myself,
I had to cut my own strings.