mmm mm mmm hmm mmm you want a version of me that fits inside your frame, something easy to explain, something easy to name. a little trophy on a shelf, a pretty face beside your own, but i'm a story made of storms, not an object to be owned. you don't love me as i am, you love the picture in your head, and every time I break that image you act like something's wrong instead. i'm not here to play a part, not here to make your ego rich, i was born with wings and fire, not to be somebody's fix. every time you say "Be mine" i hear "Be less." i am not your bunny, your flower, your vase, your pretty little diamond. not a woman for a moment or a lonely friday night. not an accessory for your car. not a doll with extra parts. not something you can buy with money or art yours – his – theirs – uh, not your... stitch. and definitely not... your attention bitch. i'm not a prize at the finish line, not a checkmark on your list, not a status symbol hanging from your arm for social clicks. i'm the voice between the pages, all the things you never read, all the broken little dreamers that the world forgot to see. you can walk beside me freely, you can hold my hand awhile, but the second that you claim me, you'll lose everything worthwhile. because love is not possession, it's a choice we give away, and a cage made out of roses is still a cage at the end of the day. i am not your bunny, your flower, your vase, your pretty little diamond. not a woman for a moment or a lonely friday night. not an accessory for your car. not a doll with extra parts. not something you can buy with money or art yours – his – theirs – uh, not your... stitch. and definitely not... your attention bitch. (your attention bitch) you can know me. you can love me. you can lose me. but you'll never own me.
