Loss of Control

Your body is not your own. It never belonged to anyone, but the crowd begs for an encore so in one final move, you rip your heart out of your chest and present it, still beating. The crowd goes wild.

Your body is not your own. It never belonged to anyone, but here you sit, sacrificing your skin to exist on raw flesh alone, and praying they don’t ask for more. You can’t sit comfortable in exposed bone.

Your body is not your own. It never belonged to anyone, but strangers gnaw on your visage like free candy, so you leave pieces at home until there was less of you to eat. Eventually, there’s too much. You don’t show up.

Your body is not your own. It never belonged to anyone, but the mirror is a cruel mistress and rather than remove its horrible face and admit defeat, you reshape. Recreate until your smile is an amalgamation and your face is something made of diamonds.

Your body is not your own. It never belonged to anyone, but the tithe you pay isn’t enough. They ask one thing of you: an offering. Down the drain of this little wooden pail goes red streams and they take it back with a smile. You’ve done your duty.

Your body is not your own. It never belonged to anyone, but still, they’ve plucked too many teeth to go back now, so all they can do is pluck out one more, say sorry, and then take their blood-soaked hand and pluck out another. They had good intentions. Truly, they did.

Your body is not your own. It never belonged to anyone, but you’ve given up too much to go back now. Your body is made of fire and ash and made to sell 0.99, your body is perfect.

Your body is worth nothing. Your body is not your own.

Author: Chanel Hand

It's funny to think about I'm technically a published writer. It'd be funnier if I added this before senior year, but it's too late to change that.

2 thoughts on “Loss of Control”

  1. BROOOOO I absolutely ate this up! The imagery is so tasty, and I love how the concept can be interpreted as either literal or metaphorical. Or an allegory. How different are metaphors and allegories? But that isn’t the point- I enjoyed reading this! One of my favorite lines is probably ” Recreate until your smile is an amalgamation and your face is something made of diamonds.”

  2. The way I feel about this is enough to get me hunted down and shoved into a white van. This is actually gut-wrenching man. Caps lock wouldn’t be enough to encapsulate how much I am obsessed with this, like future tattoo level of obsessed.

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