Who Are You, My Master?

Wants me to be caring,
Wants me to be perfect in dressing,
Wants me to fulfill every needs.

Then what about me?

What about what I want?
Am I your frickin' slave?
Should I tend to your every need?

When it was about informing,
I can still compromise.

But then I am starting to feel like a maid.
No,
A slave.

I just say "yes" so things would not get awkward as long as I am in this hateful place,
So I would not run away scared each time we meet,
So I can do my work without the feeling of depression.

I have met many kind of men.
But most of them are in my age.
So I can understand.
I can relate.

But a person of 10 years older,
This peculiar way of thinking,
It baffles me.

I am so scared when Saba says,
"Be careful. Older person has many experience,
So they may manipulate things so you would do things their way.
In the end,
You are stuck.
Dead end."

I can do things their ways.
If they can compromise to do things my way.
But up until now,
All I ever feel is,
I am your personal dress-up toy,
Your secretary where I have to greet you each fucking time,
All me.

But for the sake of my peace in this horrible, horrible place they call a cluster school,
I will hide my demon away and be your robot.
Just for another three weeks.
And I am gone.
Plan all you want,
But I am doing it my way after three weeks.

My plans,
My future,
It is still there.
AND YOU ARE NOT IN IT.

Imma tell you what you are.

Imma tell you who you are.

You are a narcissist, a perfectionist who only sees the physical of a person, wants to take but not to give, never wants to know the person you are involved to but wants them to know about you, and I am not your dog. 

 I am only human.