Society's Toy

I am ever-changing.

Always moving, like the flow of water.

Dyed the colors of people I encounter, I now have a unique shade that, each passing day, becomes uglier and uglier.

The colors don’t wash off; they continue to pile up.

 

I am what others choose to remember about me-

Nothing but a memory, flickering through someone’s mind.

After all, you may as well be nonexistent if you are forgotten.

I hope I leave people with nice thoughts.

 

I am a spectacle in a cage

And disapproving whispers cluster around me

But my friend waves good morning,

And suddenly the cage is gone, and I’m a bird.

 

We are hollow.

Bound by this social construct, we sit and wait.

No right to stray from the hands of judgement, we remain windup dolls

And society loves its toys.

This poem is about: 
Me

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