The Marionette

psychological-horroridentitytrauma-bonddark-poetrycontroldependency

You replaced my bones with strings
and taught me how to dance on command.

Now you’ve cut the cords and walked away,
and I am still crumpled on the floor —
not because I can’t stand,
but because I forgot I ever could.


psychological-horroridentitytrauma-bonddark-poetrycontroldependency