Exhausted Marionette


The shadows creep

and the rainbows sleep

as you persecute me once again

when I'm in pain

and the clock is ticking

and you're nit-picking.

My energy's drained.


I'm fighting for my rights

and performing at my all,

so the nerve of you to call

me a “defective”

when

I’m a worthy gem,

a precocious divergent.

You must not call me normal

with a broken brain.


You could never imagine

what it's like to be me.

I want to be free

as who I am

and not be damned

and not be a victim.

I am a survivor,

unrecognized,

pining to thrive,

unseen and unheard.


You assume because I have the words,

translated patterns from my head...

I've fought sometimes ‘til nearl dead,

a miracle in action.

I'm credited only a fraction

of what I really do.

Because I am not you,

on my head is your shoe…


I'm battered and I'm broken,

and yet with love I stand.

You think you've got me figured out,

but don't you know these hands.

They wring when you're not looking.

They flick when you don't see,

and after I am finished talking,

I run under the trees.


I love you, people, but you hurt me.

Why, oh, why? Oh, please,

if I do not appease…

I am misunderstood; misread

unless I dance

and you throw me bread

or roses, if I'm lucky…

I'm an exhausted marionette, it seems

until you cut the strings.


And then you catch me in a net

in which I thought was made for safety,

but once again, it is a threat,

and that's why I must never fall

or let you cut the strings,

because of what it brings.


Though I need to rest my body...

there's now a full house lobby

in need of the right advocacy

so they too can be justly freed

beyond the waiting room of that chamber

where I, too, sat, then trapped in danger

on trial for nothing that I'd done,

for society's perversely come

to blame the honest, true-hearted…


And though from the truth many run,

in the end, it's already won.


2012



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