Whipping-boy

What kind of fool must I be
to have trusted one like you ?
I brought my vulnerability before you
to bare my many broken parts.

Yet it seems too many times,
you trampled upon these wounds.
It seemed to satisfy some need
for you to feel important.

I am not your hostage
nor your whipping-boy.
Never have I been.

You have always been mistaken
if you believed I could be swayed
by anything but the light of truth.

You do not own me.
You cannot ever scold me.
If you think I'll sit by quietly,
I am not some weakling child.

You say I must not ever leave
our sacred gathering of communion.

I say I'll do this every time.
Why this is so, you might wonder,
though it has nothing to do with you.

It's either choose to leave,
or stay and stir up forces
that are better left at rest.

If you cannot clearly see this,
I do not really care.
I am not your whipping-boy,
and never shall I be.