Poem about shutting up

There's been ink in my veins from an early age
but it seems like it wasn't meant to be
either I wasn't meant for it or it wasn't meant for me

I want to give it up
I want to do what you want me to

don't know if you're afraid of it,
or if it makes you not like me

I'm trying to give it up,
because I don't want to lose you

but I swear God made me this way
so what am I supposed to do?

I'm haunted by the ghost of Tom Joad

I asked God to take me away from me.
to make me silent and submissive like Winston Smith at the end of 1984
only without having to face the rats or betray Julia first