Specter

My body is not my own.

My hands do not belong to me

They will not bring my art to life

Or give my words a body.

They are yours,

Trapped in your grasp,

And I cannot pull myself free.

My legs do not listen to me.

Even as I beg them to take me where I need to go.

Instead they follow in your steps,

Stumbling over footprints that aren’t my own,

To a destination I never wanted.

My mouth won’t cooperate,

Captured in your lips,

They repeat your truths

Rather than speak mine.

I want nothing more than to reclaim my body as my own

To be more than a ghost

Looking on as if I do not recognize this vessel to be mine

A specter.

~Quill

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