Twisted logic...By Jemma Stafford.

It never made sense.

I always wanted conformation of my existence,

You were my conformation.

No more a soulless puppet,

But a dancing marionette.

I always felt unnatural,

Almost inhuman,

You gave me that feeling,

And you removed it, too.

But still, just a lifeless doll.

Born out of creed it seemed,

No more than a toy of authority,

A creature of control,

Yet who possessed none.

Their personal finger puppet.

You always tried convincing me,

I am real,

I do exist,

It's not just a sick game.

Still, they own me.

My soul, and my strings...