PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

You held me by my strings like a puppeteer

Directing my every move

Demanding my every whim

I clung to those strings like lint to a sweater

I attempted to be something other than me

Grasping to the notion of husband and wife

Without allowing myself to see the full picture

You had your pick of the poison and you chose liquid death

Already traumatized by the poison

I could not see your sickness for what it was

Many many moons came and went

Then suddenly I had no choice but to see

That you needed help I could not supply

Petrified of taking the world on, on my own

And raising two growing boys on so much less

Still, I felt suffocated and frozen in a hopeless timeline

Those strings you held me by became tattered and frayed

You neglected my needs

So, I dried up from my roots and tumbled away