The hierarchy puppets me.

Pulls my lifeless strings to where the act requires me to be.

The numb life around me, an abattoir

In this chaos, I am no exception,

I wave, I paw at the screen,

Why won't anybody notice me?

The plead in the quiver of my lip,

should scream through the silence,

Like a screech in the stairs in the dead of night.

Perhaps they are cowards.

This puppetry can't control me, I won't let it.

I frown upon their disregard ,

But I myself, am no bigger.

I cower at the thick-eyed monsters,

Helpless without their pull.

They.

They are the voice behind my haunting shadows.

I could snip my string when their eyes are turned,

Wouldn't I be a wonder?

I could fly like pages in a story,

But my angst controls me

My pages stand still.

I am a coward.