Prisoner.

Old poem, written around Nov. 2008. Don't remember exactly what I was going through at this time but umm...definitely had something on my soul.


I am a prisoner…
Trapped in my own skin, not satisfied with what I have because it’s not enough for you
Why should I try so hard to please you when I only get less than half of what I invest?
But yet I alter myself, happy with the fact that I damage my image to make you look good.
I am a prisoner…
Who walks around like the world around me is all peaches and cream knowing it’s hell.
Allowing myself to be belittled to take away your insecurity but deep down inside it’s all I know as love.
Sad ain’t it?
To put myself in the position to be stepped on, not worthy of the praise that I deserve because of you…
Hell yes, I am a prisoner
Because I can’t see my beauty because of bitterness
Because I cry when I see myself in the mirror
Because you’ve led me to believe I’d never be wanted
Enslaved in what’s supposed to bring the best joy, being with my soul mate…
Yet…
I’ve allowed myself to become this prisoner, tortured mentally by my own thoughts and verbally by your words
Dying slowly from lethally injecting myself with negativity
No longer in control of my own destiny, but letting you take the wheel and steer me down the path of destruction
So I stay
Because it’s love
Your “girl”
Your slave
Your prisoner

-Angela Ayam