Am I Broken?

I am beaten.

I am broken.

I am forced into a mold,

with no hope of escape.

With an iron grip they hold me.

My actions,

controlled with impatiance and cruelty.


But my mind remains free.


I am not who they want me to be.

I will never be one of them.

Straining against my bonds,

it wears down my soul.


Why do they keep laughing?


As a slave driven by a whip,

so am I to follow their words.

Acting without compassion,

without love.

I am branded by their mocking words.


I am not defeated.

They cannot break my mind.

I am my own to follow.

I tell them one word,



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