Default Title - The World Is My Own

Number Eleven, Articulated with syllables rolling off tongue

Your thought
The thought you gave me
Thrust upon me
I think you may have misheard me.
You see, I did not say
"What do you think?"
I began to say
"This is what I think."
Didn't get
Very
Far.
Slipped and tumbled as you,
You armed with preconceptions and
Adult biases,
Went after not
What I suffered,
But after me.
Me, burdened with exhaustion and Panic attacks
I wearily accepted
Your words.
There was no energy left
To defy you.