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.