• Meaningless gestures hold us captive. Like wooden dolls with painted faces. Strings tied tight to keep us in our places. Every warning sign screams
    Movement is stunted, jerky, and cold. Always doing what we're told. "My kingdom for a sword." My life for a pair of scissors. Harsh words cut deep, but not nearly deep enough. Mask still in place, smile on my face.
    I peel back my skin to let you in. Cut the strings, release the lines. I'm a puppet, and you've got no hold.
    Your mouth moves, up and down. Sorry sir, my ears are painted.
    Glass eyes glazed, button nose, carved mouth speaking responses on cue.
    "Do I know you?"
    Tossed in the corner, forgotten toys. No backbone on which to rest our laurels, maybe we should rethink our damning morals. Wooden lies from wooden mouths spoken fall on deaf ears, but wooden kisses leave splinters on mine tongue.