Mannequined

My heart is heavy
My heart is as heavy as a flooded dam
It pounds on the walls of propriety and decorum
Joints pierced by pins and needles
Yearning to stretch like strings on fiddles
But it is not possible
It is not permissible
Forbidden and damned by glares of an audience

Too many eyes watching
Too many ears listening
Moist noses sniffing
Clawed paws prowling
Preying for scents to rail in
Fangs in agape jaws glistening
Itching with feedback and perspectives
Opinions and verdicts
Staring and whispering
Pointing and judging
Anticipating my utterance
Predicting my forbearance
Riveted by possibilities of errors

My feet
My feet are stuck in a pad of murky sands
I cannot move
I cannot lift one foot from the groove
To make one step
And set one foot before the next
I cannot leave
I can’t quite stay
I am strangled and muffled by strong armed men
Who then wear white wigs and rule from a bench
Refusing my thirst to be quenched
And toe the line, my zeal to wrench

My voice
My voice echos within my lungs
I cannot hold face nor my stance
They yank my chin so high I cannot site my path
My teeth grit
They grind to resist this choking fete
My hands extend
Groping in the dark to apprehend existence
My eyes squint
I cannot fight
My tongue is stuck at the roof of my mouth
Devoid of breath
Stifled of speech
Denied drink to find relief

Yet I am expected to live
I am expected to thrive
Expected to fold in
And keep uniformity
And I wonder
Who we made commander
And allowed at our destinies to rule over?

Who invented this regiment
Demanding our obedience
Subduing all efforts of resistance?
Was it me?
Was it you?
Was it the old man by the mangrove?
For dried up crumbs we trade our lives
On hand-me-down platters worth a penny and a dime.

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2 thoughts on “Mannequined

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