Vicariously
I have come to see
I do not live for myself.
No.
Her hand guides me
this way, and that.
Trapped, Frustrated
and unable to speak out.
I cower inside myself
for fear of rejection
and confrontation.
These choices are not my own,
but I go along.
I admit,
I am afraid
to disappoint,
to go against her will,
to speak for myself.
She did not have this,
what she wants for me.
Her intentions are well,
but I hardly feel free.
I wish to spread my wings,
to be independent,
to choose my own path.
Yet,
here I sit,
silent,
and scared.
I am but a puppet.
She pulls my strings
as she lives.
Vicariously.