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Climb the Wall to Look at the Stars

Limbs. 

They belong to the puppets

The dolls

The mannequins that cannot move and cannot think and cannot

Feel.

They try

Oh, they try

Clawing their way out from the barriers guarding their minds and 

Suffocating their mobility.

They try,

And they try

To reach the keys locking their thoughts and 

Hindering their choices.

One mere action is what they crave;

A solitary choice made 

Liberally,

Independently.

A freeing pathway to stagger out of

To observe, just once, 

The nighttime sky

From their own vantage.

 

But oh, they

Are mannequins.

Dolls.

Puppets. 

Their keys ill-designed for their minds' padlocks.

They can't, shan't, won't ever

Scale the ramparts.

Can't, shan't, will never

Climb the walls

To look at the stars.






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