My body is fragile.
It puckers under pressure,
beads in the cold
it needs to sleep regularly
if I don't obey it will force me.
My body is small.
It cannot lift that which is larger
it cannot be where it is not
Despite what I may ask, it is limited.
My body is weaker and yet it is my master.
I am enslaved to it.
It is cruel and kind, often at the same time.
It controls my movement, my capacity.
Despite my desires, my wants, my will,
it is my body that will decide.
I have belonged to it for so long I no longer feel trapped.