Puppet
Someone above is holding your smile for you;
shoving these happy pills down your throat.
Don't cry; they tell you not to.
When the moon is between the puppet strings,
tears stain your cheeks.
Your sleeves are stained.
The will to give up gets thinner and thinner.
So do you.
Dad saw you and turned back around.
Mom gave you 400 pounds to carry on your back.
You struggled to carry.
Back is breaking.
Legs can't walk anymore.
Keep pushing, they would say.
Crawl, crawl to the nearest cliff.
Sit on the edge.
Cut the puppet strings; the weight falls with it.
Take a breath and close your eyes.
Copyright © Rj Moya | Year Posted 2022
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