Work Text:
What Do You Want, Cupcake?
Do you want to know who I am,
or only what fits in your plan?
Do you ask what keeps me awake,
or just how much of me you take?
Do you want truth beneath my skin,
the wars I carry deep within?
Or do you only need my hands
to fight the battles you command?
Do you ask what bruised my mind,
what memories I leave behind?
Or do you only want me near
to strengthen how you appear?
Do you wonder what haunts my sleep,
what silence cuts, what wounds run deep?
Or do you simply need my face
to hold position in your place?
Will you ask whether I’m the one
they painted dark beneath the sun?
Or will their voices shape your view
before you let me answer you?
Can you look past the sharpened lies,
past careful rumors, borrowed eyes?
Can you decide what you believe
without the poison they all feed?
Because I see the way you stand
with one foot turned from where I am.
Like part of you still weighs the cost
of standing near someone half lost.
And maybe I could bear the blame,
the twisted stories, thrown-out names.
Maybe I could survive the weight
of strangers deciding all my shape.
But not from you.
Not from your side.
Not if you hear them and decide
that I am easier to doubt
than fight the noise surrounding us.
Do you want to know what hurts me most?
Not enemies. Not bitter ghosts.
Not those who never cared to see
the truth that lives inside of me.
It’s wondering if you will stay
once all the comfort falls away.
If power stopped calling your name,
if loyalty brought loss instead of gain.
Would you still reach your hand to mine
if standing there crossed some thin line?
If choosing me meant risking all
the praise that waits beyond the wall?
Can you carry more than pride?
More than titles at your side?
Is recognition all you seek,
another throne beneath your feet?
Or would you leave those things behind
to stand with me against the tide?
To lose the safety of the crowd
and choose what’s true instead of loud?
Because I am so tired of war
that starts before I reach the door.
Tired of proving piece by piece
that I deserve the smallest peace.
Tired of wondering who will turn
the second whispers start to burn.
Who will hold steady through the flame,
and who will trade me for a name.
And still, despite it all, I wait.
Still stand here asking far too late
whether beneath your sharpened guard
there beats a real and human heart.
Because sometimes when you look at me,
I almost think you truly see
the parts I hide beneath defense,
the fear beneath the confidence.
Sometimes I think you understand
the weight I carry in my hands.
Like maybe you can hear the war
beneath the calm I build for sure.
And maybe that is why this aches.
Why every silence feels like blades.
Why every step you take away
feels louder than the words you say.
So tell me honestly tonight:
when all ambition leaves your sight,
when all the ranks and praise are gone,
when no one’s left to stand upon
what is it that you truly seek?
A soldier strong?
Someone weak?
A loyal shadow at your side?
A useful name?
A source of pride?
Or do you actually want me
not useful, perfect, brave, or clean,
but wounded, furious, incomplete,
with shaking hands and restless sleep?
Because I can survive the flame.
I can survive being blamed.
I can survive the world’s contempt
and all the judgment that it spends.
But I do not think I could survive
discovering you were never mine
in any honest, human way
just someone using me to stay
a little higher, more admired,
while I stood burning in the fire.
So answer clearly.
Answer true.
Before I break myself for you.
Tell me, Cupcake
what do you actually want?