my skin itches and crawls
chafing at the new restraints
self-imposed to improve my
moral character
my brain thinks rebellious thoughts about you
my arms go to reach for you
but the extension is halted
by these imaginary ropes
i haven't been broken yet
believe me, i'm trying
but i haven't given in
just yet

it's a constant struggle to not throw them off
keeping them on is even more strenuous
i'm not sure if i even want to be doing this,
molding my instincts like clay
or rather,
shaping them like a miniature tree
i scream for you but glass walls block the sound
i whine like a child
for instant gratification
i question this torture like another mother questions
one who leaves her baby to cry
but i have to admit, i am seventeen
not a child any more
i deserve what i'm giving myself  ¶ 7:24 PM