Bear Bile Farming

You make me sick

Yet here we are.

Gutted
At the idea of being stuck
In your iron ribs

For you took everything I had,
Inside and out,
Just to pretend all the stories you make up
Fit with your perfect lie

But I’m too drained to fight
And I’m too weak to run

Left to believe
That I am the burden
Holding you back
From claiming
What’s rightfully yours