Strings are attached to each of my joints
All you have to do is tilt your wrist
and I am propelled into action
I surrender all control to you
And you are happy to commandeer
and play the puppeteer

You move my body to the beat
Leading me wherever we go like a herd of sheep
Time inclement of fluid movement
Synchronize perfectly to the dramatic music
the ****** always sends my heart rate into a frenzy
like a series of erratic stab attacks
I anticipate the end
as my feet are raise farther from the ground

You make me leap like a deer
running with such fear
from the cruel inventions of man
there's no time to think or hesitate
the dread begins to crescendo
with the power behind every violin
as I succumb to your whims
and dance like a sylph
weightless and wanton

Manipulation is a game you relish in
and you always put on the best show
You use my body better than I know how to
and you write out the script of my destiny
putting force in my step
and stretching me to express love
in order to vanquish the demolition of empathy
when humanity can no longer feel much of anything
but the anger and guilt and the emptiness of apathy

Hypocritically, you pay no heed to me
The things I abide as you paint your vision
Never cross your mind
I am simply a prop you molded in the image of your lover
the one that rejected you after years of chase
the moment you had her went to waste
and the longing never quite went away

My body was a product of your creation
but I still like to call my soul my own
you chipped away at me with such determination
and I shed curled wood instead of tears
as you carved my features with haste
making me into the form you wanted me to be
but you left nothing but a blank slate for my face
so you could put others in my place

I let you play with my limp legs
Finding disgust in every touch
but I find no reason to reject it
No energy of my own to deflect it
My arms bend to hold you the way she never wanted to
but these encounters are merely sets of occurrences
that have been written off in your script
as being scant of any meaning

I am your prototype but never the real thing
And in this cage of fibers I can rarely call my own
I begin to hate the matter that made me
and you, my creator, for having the gall to maim me
into a very disposable little trinket
because that's all that you see in me
and your influence is hard to shake

I feel weak with my self-inflicted derision
and the cultural mess we've attached to gender and labor division
creates a self-fulfilling prophecy of limitation
that I can't seem to burn from my mind
so your direction and guiding hand
helps me feel like less of an ignorant swine
as you introduce me to the art of feeling
I put up with your demeaning ways
so long as I remain the star of your play  

These sets of scenarios give me depth
and I embody all the roles you throw at me
but there is such emptiness in playing pretend
and experiencing and expressing beauty
when I am devoid of my own free will  

I have some comfort in mild mindlessness
because the infinite possibilities cannot intimidate me
and my inhibition cannot confine me
to a small fraction of what I have the potential to be
when you are there to steer me

I let you color the world for me
and put words in my mouth
but they are never able to pass through my lips
and you pay little mind to what I feel
when emotions are reduced to signs of hysteria
I attempt to articulate the fear through my body
As you manipulated me to express
lust, unrest, distress

Matter collides with the power of your inflections
the vibrations of your voice
sets in motion uncustomary emotions
that you awkwardly subject me to
as you pull me into situations of speculation and scrutiny
and turn dancing and passion
into a practiced routine

You view me as a rag doll
a petty squirrel
whose job is to be seen not heard
who suffers in silence
and takes it like a girl
If being wooden is a curse
being a woman is worse
because I never quite compare as far as intellect
and I long to prove myself wrong
but I am still like Pinocchio
trying to turn myself into a real boy

Hedonistically I wake up wondering what the world will do for me
Rather than what I can do for it
I have no ambition for greater things
I don't wait for my hour upon the stage
But you prop me up on your knee
And force me back into the light
Showing the world what you have done
Boasting of my blessed life

I am introduced as a product of you
A thing of delight
but never worthy in my own right
I never move until you force me to
I stay in the same place just in case
you need me for a new performance
a means of entertainment


In your crazed state
you gyrate the axis
sending me dancing at a violent pace
the sweet sentiments overlooked
and your fanaticism fuels a fire of fear and fury
a furnace that brings light to my indifference
and I feel my eyes are open now

You have been bottled up just as I have
in this dreadful dynamic of reliance
you used me to release your repressed ideas
your rejected love and your animosity
But no matter how much sympathy I have for your cruel art
When you try to rest your head on my wooden chest
My body rises with a need for revenge
And I snap my lid shut and decapitate you
So I can finally breathe on my own again
And detach these strings that bound us
as slaves to infatuation