the lies tell us when the truth is insufficient. our cages become us. until we forget that we’re prisoners. we chase the edge. thieves high on the hunt. we crouch in the deepening distance. pretending to chase the monsters that are hunting us.
we rage against time. delusion our only weapon.
the dolls slip out of their dresses. plastic skin and heavy scars confront us. the pendulum still swings. in either direction.
the clock still ticks. taking away the luxury of choices.
her lips move, though no words are said. her fist clenches. though she possesses nothing.
Playing with broken toys : Poetry of the Damned
