CURTAINS OPENED...

Brainwashed by society
He now thinks that he is free
Even though he isn’t who he wants to be
He conforms to the norm
One MUST work to live...
Money is the rod by which he measures himself
Against the rest
Even though he tries to convince himself
That he is not like them
The fancy houses and glamorous rides
Aren’t for him
Yet in the back of his mind
He wishes he wouldn’t be disappointed
When he dips into his pockets
To find the next pay check can’t come soon enough

I observe them all through my own invisible walls
As we all
Go about our daily routine
Unaware of the strings attached to us
We don’t see them subconsciously tugging on our mind’s strings

What size should he be?
Who should she marry?
Do I follow the religion I was born into?
Or do I dare to want learn about the fulfilment another can offer me
Does being black mean that I will always fight for my rights
Am I automatically racist because I am white?
Should I dress how I feel comfortable?
Or do I go with what’s in style?
Do I love him because he is what my parents expect?
Or does he love me because it’s worthwhile?

Dance puppet dance!
To the melody of your money
Filling his pockets
When you gamble it away
Because on the next roll you think you could win
But you lose everything
And then you have to face her... broken

Dance puppet dance!
To the beat of grade point averages
And Ivy League colleges
That you can’t get into
Because you aren’t cut from that cloth
You are ultimately striving for excellence
But the committee members see you as a nought

Dance puppet dance
Fight for your country!
Defend the soil that feeds you
Only to be welcomed home
To face the drought
Of recognition
An unsuitable pension
Physically injured and mentally tired
Tugging at demons wishing your life had expired
Instead of your time
In a place where your dreams
Forgot your hopes
And you danced for everyone but yourself

Dance puppet dance!
To the words of the song called failure
The ones that play in your head
Because your father is an addict
Your mother’s dead
You were abused
So you have everything to lose
Are the strings tighter when you don’t have to be a fighter?
When the world as at your feet for the taking
Yet still you don’t use your resources wisely
Fulfilling serial killers tendencies
Staging promiscuous fantasies
Indulging in paedophile activities
Blaming your actions on ADD or some other deficiency

But you are still free
Or are you really?
Emancipated from the stench or minority
Released from the bondage of poverty
Or is it just a well decorated illusion?
A magic show where you are the contestant
Or maybe just a musical
Where you’re the puppet who is so popular
That you think you’re a real boy
But while attempting to walk off the stage
You realise they are folding you up
Detaching your strings and placing you inside the box...

CURTAINS CLOSED

UNTOUCHEDSOUL2009