The Pincushion
For decades you’ve used our bodies as your pincushion
Poking, prodding, cutting, and killing.
Forcing us to be your experimental subjects
Scraping, shocking, drugging, and drilling.
Locking us up in meager dwellings
Filthy, restrictive, desolate, and cramped.
Filling me with toxins, chemicals, and poisons
Upon my skin a brand is painfully stamped.
My skin burns as you cover me with makeup and creams.
My muscles ache with each electrical shock.
My brain no longer functions as it should
You’ve carelessly destroyed my biological clock.
You alter the very DNA that nature gave me
I was not created for misery and imminent death.
Are the answers to your scientific questions
Really worth taking my very last breath?
Stop using me as your puppet, pincushion, and servant
Treat me with kindness, compassion, and respect
With all the advances to technology these days
Surely you could find an alternative subject.
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