They plucked you like a stray hair
From atop the high cliffs
Where you belong.
Painstakingly trimming your roots to fit their pots,
Meticulously pruning your crown like a monkey picking bugs
From his tribe mate, their actions deliberate.
Never satisfied, they won’t stop
Watching you for any sign of
Growth and nipping you before you get any ideas.
Tolerate this, but more promises
To come in the form of wire
Spiraled tightly around your limbs like
Ivy around an arbor
Bending you, shaping you to their
Will, weighing you down, aging you, breaking you until
You die to be free.
I am you, you are me,