Scripted

The playwright’s got me on papers

My moves and ways drop by strings

My footprints are marked

An ordered step

The lights and cameras

Well yea I liked the idea

Ignorant of what it came with

Now I’m in a bottomless abyss

But surrounded by a crowd

Who are to grant my eveery wish

As if I had any

I heartily laugh at their meekness

For it does nothing

What wishes am I privileged with?

What orders have I to give?

My speech is sorted

Even beforeI speak

My clothes. My make up. My looks.

Planned and hanged

Needing to be picked up and worn

My life I read as lines

Action.

The lights glow. The carpets roll

My scripted life unfolds.

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