Spite in shouts
cold
calculated
formal
scared
words describing the features i bare
the ones given to me by the force beyond my control
by hands and words that shaped my mold
are you proud, are you happy
do these words bring you grace
knowing i never have to come back to your gaze
escaped from the prison
and the holding cell
the room i locked myself in
a confinement in hell
churned and burned
like sand into glass
i evolved my thinking
to be faster and at last
I broke from your grip
even if you say it was held dear
at the end of the day i choose to disappear
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