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of staying in unhealthy relationships

 

quiet slave to this condition.

dig my grave, with your permission

bend to whim, and bow to way,

much like jack, without his play

but painted smile, both face and mind

hides the trap, that i unwind

creaking springs, and rusted teeth,

for what wonders, time bequeaths

some things age well, and others, not,

this part of me, succumbed to rot

is set to snap, though i resist,

whim and way, still they persist

until the day some fateful blunder

springs the trap and tears asunder

either master, or the servant

either way, they both deserve it.