I feel the noose wrapped around my head,
my mind,
dragging me around like a wilful-less puppet
telling me what to think, and how.

Dragging me along in the gravel
my body sprays small pebbles up and around,
ricocheting off all the people cowering,
trying to grab hold of me as I fly past.

Scrapes and wounds and blood
decorate my skin.
The noose loosens,
momentarily.

Strength remains in my legs, arms and mind,
despite the injuries sustained, scarred, and healing.
I will stand up, and resist the jerking tug of rope,
taking my hands to release the knots
and drop a limp piece of rope to the ground.

Tower over it, I will, casting my shadow,
resolving to remind myself
no matter how often it takes,
that the rope will not control me.