Poesy and Prose

Unknown

They were telling me that morning that nothing I've achieved has been earned alone. 

They said it was their words that broke me from Unknown's hold. 

I had thought it was because I was done with its punishments. 

I grew tired of how it used me, aware of everything it meant. 

But they said I didn't do it alone. 

I know that's supposed to be encouragement. 

They were showing support. 

But I've always been wired wrong. 

I stopped listening because even though I felt I deserved it, to be used and broken, I had learned to do that myself. 

I could keep it all inside, never show my cracks. 

Until the day came, when I couldn't. 

I felt the scars like fire in my veins. 

Their words made me sick. 

I broke in front them...they saw. 

I couldn't speak, and yet I had to spill my truth. 

I couldn't escape Unknown.  

I hadn't escaped Unknown. 

It'd worn me to ruins, and I'd burnt the remains to dust. 

To me, it sounded as if they were saying I was nothing. 

I cannot be someone. 

My life and success, my failures, everything 

I am theirs. 

Their pet project and revenge. 

I know they love to hate Unknown more than they love me. 

It is my torturer, my owner, my hammer. 

I am the nail, and I am useless. 

Forgotten and lost as soon as I bend. 

I said nothing of what I felt, though I suspect they know something now I never wanted them to.

I never divulged my secrets.

Maybe because I feel I still deserve to be punished.