I don’t feel like Pinocchio
but these strings feel like a home I been trying to escape from
to search for what it means to be a real boy
cause papa made me like every other mistake
and the screws in me were mistaken
for fixins to a broken thing
man’s toy
a boy’s wonder
full of lies I’ve been told
I’ve been told
I was good enough
good enough to be a real boy
that all the pieces that made me
made me whole
but really, I was just piece
that needed the strings to keep me together
the nights I fall apart
I lie limp
staring into the darkness waiting for piano fingers to play me like Americas favorite tune
gun shots ring out like hymns
or so I imagine
a home I don’t want to escape from
a vessel that feels like freedom
less of a prison sentence
somedays I am so close to ending it
other days they are so close to ending it for me
today I got pulled over
semicolon
today they followed me around a store
semicolon
today they had their sirens on behind me
I checked my speedometer
slowed down
they went around me
semicolon
today I took a breath
semicolon
I tell myself I am okay
I tell you I am okay
one of us doesn’t believe the lie