I never went to the playground alone. A puppet on a string.
They decide what I say.
They decide where I go.
Get a grip.
My life is supposed to be mine, right?
Who am I? Who am I really?
Empty, I am empty.
Not a person, not a story.
I can’t leave the goddamn house.
Not because I fear they will hurt me.
Because I know they will judge me.
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