I hear my voice speaking

and realize it’s not my own,

neither the words nor the tone,

try as I might,

I have no control,

much like the tension in my face

and the wrinkles creasing,

ever increasing.

Sick and tired of being compromised.

Manipulated.

Stultified.

Desecrated.

Violated.

Implicated, extradited and extricated

by external forces.

Taken away from myself.

Compromised.

Shaped into a me that I don’t want to be.

 

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