Not a victim of crime,
I lay down
Raped of my life.
I’m a victim of myself,
Allowing to be held back.
Not putting up a fight,
Never saying no,
Afraid of losing you.
I become a puppet on strings,
Being pulled every other way.
Not being me,
My life is slipping away.
My wooden heart is cold,
Set me alight with your love,
Bring back the warmth we had.
Cut my strings,
Free me, let me be the person I am.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like the way you write. You put alot of heart into your poems. I'll look forward to reading more of your work. Writng is how I deal with painful things in my life plus the good times. Warmest Regards, Donna