False confessions mean nothing.
A coerced tale may ring true,
But it wasn't meant to be so.
Perhaps it wasn't intended for your ears
Wasn't crafted in my heart to be spoken at all.
You may think you help
And I will be set free as a bird
But all you set free is resentment.
I built this up inside for myself alone.
These words are not meant to be shared.
They are not meant to be squeezed out of me
Along with bubbling tears and hiccuping sobs.
My soul should not be bared out of shame
Left shattered in pieces on a kitchen table.
A beautiful thing such as this
Was not meant to be wrenched away from me
And laid for all to see
Leaving me in shambles.
Was I built only to be broken?
Or do my words mean nothing
Unless accompanied by hysteria.
You could have waited
Until I was prepared to share myself
But instead, you assume that this confession
Was how it always was.
That it was never a beautiful and careful story
Slowly readying itself for the world.
A forced premature birth.
I crafted these words for me
And anyone I would choose
Not to be falsely rearranged by you
And wrung out of me
Dripping out of my mouth along with any chance you had
At having anything but my