Puppet Blood

they're holding all the strings,
sticking pins in a puppet that looks like you.
they're making you dance the way they want you to,
and you fall when they cut you down.

stay down,
play dead.

are we marionettes or voodoo dolls or both?
they're hanging us by our fabric throats,
we're swinging on needle and thread, needles in our canvas skin.
we dance the way they want us to dance,
and we bleed when they stick the meathooks in.

they're crushing us into the floor again,
stay down.
play dead.
maybe they'll leave us alone if we don't try to stand.

i'm not running.
i'm trying to catch my breath.