All Writing & Art, Poetry. Prose. Letters.

a life called survival

image © Mariann Martland

i didn’t ask to be taken like that,
all young,
innocent and easily-broken

into any mold of life they offered
or insisted upon.
i never wanted to be shaped

to become
the easy play-thing
they desired, on any given day.

i didn’t change
to make life harder for you,
or for them, or for me.

i was merely existing in a life
as close to death as one could possibly be;
a life called survival,

not living.
never living.

and yet i know,
i always knew,
i was not made to survive,

i am here
for something more,
or less,

but never to fit this box
named survivor
that i could neither bear nor fit.

and so i changed.
i made myself
less mouldable to their each
and every whim, but

i didn’t ask to find myself on the outside
looking in
to a life of less, filled with shadows;

screaming to be heard and killing myself
to be seen.
i never wanted to
change your world

with my honest word.
i just wanted you
to love me.

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