Analysis of Despondency.

I cut my limbs off
one by one;
attempting to numb the pain of your despondency.

I frantically sew them back on;
poorly,
crudely.
with no motive at all,
simply for the beauty of it.

Here,
take the blade.
cut me out into what you want me to be,
bend me to your will
for I am just a slave,
a puppet
a canvas.

I fear ill turn into you,
yet
I yearn to resemble you in the slightest.
would that please you ?
lie to me
I beg of you,
lie and tell me it will.