(Pinocchio Should Have Rebelled with a bit More Conviction)

The makeup you have meticulously placed
on my face is
chafing my skin.
These hooks that you have poked
in my limbs
are making me bleed.
I'm made of flesh- SKIN!

I'm lonely up here.
How long have you been
yanking and
cranking and
tugging?

You did not design me,
as the fulfilled gaze in your haughty,
naughty eyes
would imply you did.
I'm lonely up here.

Beauty
Cannot be manipulated.
Energy
Cannot be fabricated.
Grace
Cannot be found from one yank
To another.

I'm done. I quit.
Snap these strings
and put me down,
so I can wash my face.



** A poem I wrote 3 years ago that has recently been accepted into the Spring 2009 issue of GMU's literary journal. So, this makes it 2 for 2... I was also published last semester! It is very cool, and I'm both humbled and proud all at once. **