a limp yet warm body
given a role to play
an object, not a person
subjected to morbid games

it used to hurt but now it's like
crashing a hearse
i'm already dead inside
it can't get any worse

learned helplessness
and a final realization
heros aren't real
deafening resignation

learned existence is pain
so harden and be numb
i don't know if i hate
the ragdoll i've become

i may not react
but at least i can't feel
if it can't touch me
it doesn't have to be real