Putty For The Molding Poem by Fallon Young

How can a soul be so torn?
Decisions and outside influences.
Like cloaks’ to be worn.
How do we shake them off, without consequences.

How can we control what comes our way?
Matters of the heart and soul in the balance,
What road is the one, who is to say?
How can one avoid the loathing and malice?

So many souls I hold in my hands,
Why is it always the innocent that burn?
Decisions, promises, never follow our plans.
Trust, confidence and love are so hard to earn.

Why do we let them control us?
Play into their hands, like putty to be molded.
Bend us, twist us and promise it won’t hurt,
And when they done, their master piece is not you!

How do we stand up and say, ENOUGH!
This is me! This is who I am! I am ME!
Where do we draw the strength from,
To shrug of the cloak of our oppressors?

They say the strength will come from within,
How can it?
When that is where the damage was done!
All we are is putty for the molding!