They Assume

In the realm of conjecture, they dwell and thrive, Weaving tapestries of assumptions, as they strive, To suffocate my existence, to snuff out my flame, Leaving me gasping for air, in a world that's not my own. Their suppositions, a noose that tightens with each passing day, A constant reminder that my autonomy's at bay, They seek to dictate my every move, to script my every line, Erasing my identity, leaving me a hollow, vacant shrine. Their apathy, a palpable force, that threatens to consume, Apathy that's deaf to my desires, my values, my worth, my bloom, They care not for my dreams, my passions, my heart's deepest sighs, Their assumptions, a prison that holds me captive, with no parole, no goodbyes. But still, I rise, I resist, I rebel against their might, I shatter the shackles of their assumptions, and emerge into the light, I reclaim my power, my voice, my right to live, to breathe, to be, I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul, and I will not be swayed.