A Puppet And A Living Corpse

Location

6900 Capitol View Ct Johnston, IA
United States
41° 41' 12.6564" N, 93° 41' 45.762" W

A thousand yellow pairs of eyes

Peer into mine

With every year of life that passes

The   s     chained to my wrists

           t

         r

           i

         n

           g

         s

P          U         L          L   harder

I have become a puppet show

Put on stage as the

“Very bright girl who’s going places!”

Yet when someone dares to ask where

No one can respond.

 

Some days I remember to peak behind the curtain

To glimpse at the young woman living there

Her hair is shredded

eyes

      sinking

                 into

                      sallow

                              cheeks

Parts of her skin flaked to the

Bone

She coughs violently

I look away, silently

Trying to forget her body is

My own.

 

The girl faces the crumbling notebooks

Full of half-finished stories

Rage pounds its angry fist into my thoughts

How dare she remind me of what could have been?

 “Your rent is due!”

Power turns my expression cold

 

She is in a funny mood today

Asking if I would take this month’s rent

In stories I should have told.

 

My eyes have finally adjusted

To the darkness behind this curtain

Yet I leave, disgusted

Thinking about stories I could have told

 

The   s     on these broken wrists

           t

         r

           i

         n

           g 

         s

 

P         U         L         L          t    i    g    h    t    e    r        t   i   g   h   t   e   r   t  i  g  h  t  e  r  t i g h t e r tighter  

 

I have no life left;

I have but this show

One day I sense c-r-a-c-k in my

                           mask

Oh my!

The mask has nearly fallen and the curtain almost d

                                                                       r

                                                                   o

                                                                p

                                                            s

My wrists no longer throb

And thus I peer behind the dreaded drapes

To ask the girl to run away together

Our masks are cracked, after all

But she shook her head-

She was too far gone

Wilting back into the darkness

She took the notebooks into her feeble hands

 

I return to my show

For I have nothing more

 

I haven’t seen her in a while…

If the curtain pulls back

Will I be greeted with anything

But her bones?

 

Comments

kalwani.lavina

This poem for the Slam Behind the Curtain Scholarship focuses on the self I portray to the world in day-to-day life, and how that affects my true, locked away personality. I often feel like a puppet, dancing around to others needs when all I want is to write my own story. This lead to two interesting symbols I used throughout the poem. I hope you enjoyed this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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