You Can’t Control Me

by Skye Matheney

I tried to tell you. It was just a date,

a movie, late on a Saturday night.

He made me feel like I could fly, but you

came back as if I was still in your hands;

like I somehow belonged to you. Then why

do you tell me I can’t when I say I can?

You think I don’t, but I can see your noose,

I clearly see it hanging there. And if

I step onto your stage, would someone stop

and stare? I’m not a puppet on a string,

a remote-control plane. I will always be

the girl who’s left to cry out in the rain.

I’m not a damsel in distress, I don’t

need your help. I can do this on my own;

yes, I can save myself. I am not

a puppet on a string; you can’t control me.

 

 

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