Dolls of Society Slam Poem

By Devon Mettlin Beneath the willow tree I lie speaking to the broadened earth that lies between my subtle feet. The emotional distress collapses over me like a puppeteer in a window with no hope for escape. The divergent distance between groups so happy to a group less honorable is my only hate. We are all menaces to society unless we have a four year degree or a famous relative that we can’t even see. We are like dolls in society knocking on heaven’s door above high ground as we search for more. Our hearts cannot see what the change has come to believe. Inside ourselves we all earn the right to be free. As we the people seek a destiny, the war rages on. Where the spirits fly around high above looking for more angels to soar, we can breathe. Life is but a vain glimpse of reality in its purest form. We speak of such pity as a new way to mourn. The life of the indigenous species we all reside around gives us a sense of compatibility in reality. Beneath the willow tree I stare letting nature be a part of my social outer layer. As I play a doll looking for keen vulnerabilities in our government, I cannot begin to fade into the sections without profanity. We play cat and mouse with the world reminding ourselves every day of the fatalities we the people have caused. Then just the other day I glanced at the television to a see a disgusting decision by a poorly compatible figure. The news reel highlighted an inconsiderate bombing in Boston by a burdened body that shall be known as unknown. As we play dolls in the world we speak as a record plays continuously displaying our hopes and dreams. This isn’t what we have meant it to be; just more, and more fatalities that have raised over US not just ME. How can we call ourselves a species if we strut so low to dig such shallow gravestones of our own as we partake in the murdering of innocent souls. Have you heard about the situations we all partake in each and every surviving day? Pulling on the thread to our survival; we have called upon ourselves to be noble in every way possible. This honorability spreads throughout my country through greed, lust, power, and fame. I stand here in a puddle of my stability thinking of what have I done to get blamed. I walk around the school being the subject of a horrid frame; thinking why I am the same as everyone here. The intensity deprives as you glance at the subjects ahead of you believing that you were too late. Too late to be the one you have always wanted to be, and too early to see what you have always needed to see. We issue our fate as a sign of luck and gratitude, but the only fate we end up with is the one we have been forced to pull through. This is why kids tend to think inside the box nowadays because reality forces us to see something that we shouldn’t see. They pressure us to be who we don’t want to be, and make us think that we can succeed, without intending for us to bleed. I lie here beneath the willow tree scolding my broadened destiny because they tell me what to believe. The last thing I have noticed about this gravestone destiny is that we cannot escape our reality. I understand I am saying that world a lot, but in different meanings it displays affections of all kinds. Being a doll in society is not just what you are intended to believe, but it is something we want to repeat. If you are a repeat offender to a surviving system in this life, you have succeeded in your own way. Being what you want to be is just one step in your mind to success and destiny. Let’s gather together and feel the warmth and affection of what we truly can be. You don’t have to rely on your social counterparts to strive in your own system of happiness. Think about the consequences in this life if you rely on everyone else instead of believing in yourself; believing is ALL that counts in this reality. This sense of stability in me is what I believe that I need to see in this reality. So take charge in your happiness and be who you want to be, in order to succeed, in YOUR reality.