Look at what you've made me into.

  I am your prized possession, meticulously planned

  like a puppet on your strings to be manipulated.

  Choke me with your cords and ribbons,

  teach me how to please you.

  Look at what you've cursed me to be.

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  I am not real, my body is artificial, never designed

  to last longer than a few dozen catwalks and reveries.

  I am not jealous of those free creatures,

  I will never know what it feels like to be unfettered.

  Look at what you've created.

  My bones are wrenched and contorted like machinery,

  my lungs try to cry out, but you cannot hear me.

  Cut off and tie down what you do not like,

  polish me and pin me, bend my neck on its axis.

  Look into my forgotten eyes, begging for approval.

  Do you love me for who I am?

  Or do you love me for what I am?