The nylon strings have become more visible With the ascent of the blinding light. With more eyes to see than there are wills unleashed. Becoming a mere observer of the rally How to smile, laugh and chat. Take the skin for the leather, Take away the wood for flesh and bones. The voice kept to yourself Even in an unbidden show How you clap on to forsake The rage, piling down to a crescent. Tighten the screws on its joints To see if it moves on your command. Give it a voice, that, can never be its own. Make it sit, stand, jump or lay Make it feel like it takes its own steps A satire on its own And after you get bored Tuck it beneath the pile of broken pawns. ~~gingerbread