[Please read the tags of this story, and you'll have an idea of where it'll be headed. If you are sensitive to those triggers, please do not read.]

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A poem I had written, which serves as the general theme for this story.

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This trapped feeling is all I feel.

This oblivious aura is all I want.

The struggle to breath

The urge to escape

The need for personal paradise

The desire to live spontaneously

All too far beyond my reach.

I am but a puppet. 

The thin, dangling strings have shred

The edges so that now

I am hanging on a fine line

Approaching the blissful hell below

Forsaking the dreadful heaven above

Tugged from all sides

Expected to exhibit my weakness

To wrap around their needs

Liberation is nothing but

A distant utopia; 

A forbidden yearning

There is not much left than to

Go where the strings will take me

In submissive defeat.

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