you molded me
into a man i was, never
into a man i can never
escape or remove

you folded me
in precise, perfect shapes
to a puppet on your mantle
collecting dust, long after you had gone

you scalded me
my pores burn and boil
even now, from your influence
even now, from you

and yet, if you called on me
i don't think i would answer
i only hope, deep down
that you know that you were wrong