What I Was/ What I Am

I was deconstructed and rebuilt by his design

I was the bird called mercy, begging.

I was a doll or less:

an inanimate object under his hands.

I was the mute with parted lips

and an invisible scream.

I was the slim tree in the storm, back breaking,

I was an animal in a trap

chewing through my own flesh to escape.

I was gone

I was this poem for far too long.

It's been some time and I'm quite sure I'm different now;

still changing, healing.

Having to adapt.

All I am now is inpatient 

to become what I want to be.