Work Text:
I have both feet, yet I don't know where to stand. I have both eyes, yet, I don't know where I stand.
I really am still your lady Sullivan.
As I place my head up this rope, down this rope, it will not change the course of direction of my feet as it dangles recklessly.
For, it won't be bound no more. And I won't be bound to the cage you placed me inside. The cage that traps my feet, as I stumble to stand.
I have both feet, yet I don't know where to stand, I have both eyes but I don't know where to peek. I have both feet but all I know how to use to stand, to walk, to run, is my hands, as I crawl pathetically on the cold, stale ground.
You ground me and refuse my stand.
Did I ever really have a stand?
So let me— as I stand up to this chair and tie a noose– to try to hang. To float up in the air, where it's always fast when I try to stand and eventually trip– for the air that fills my lungs as I struggle to make a stand of my own– but this isn't much different than to die by the hands of the ones who I dedicated my life to sealing a contract to.
As I struggle to stand. To walk. To run.
I trip and it holds me by the nape, to strangle and to rape.
I am nothing but a slave– that is called a master wherein she calls her name– Seiglinde Sullivan.
But who is a master who cannot stand? A master who has no stand.