Puppet
by Elizabeth Asiedu
I am not insane.
She whispered
I am normal.
She shouted.
I am not different.
She muttered.
I am just a teenage girl.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
Pointe shoes bend.
Cardboard cracks.
Softer and softer, it fades away.
No longer pink, but almost white.
It's too tired to point any longer.
They can only bend, no longer stand.
Automatically, she moves.
Every single toe in line, feet pointed,
Legs straight, arms stretched.
Still, she never reaches the stars.
She reaches out,
Tentative fingers shaking,
What will she choose?
“The red one honey,” Mother says.
“Yellow is what a proper lady would wear,” Father proclaims.
“Purple will get everyone’s eyes on you,” Society shouts.
“Green is the safest choice,” Schools demand.
Which one will she put on?
Like chess pieces she moves,
One player and a thousand pawns.
Should she attack? Go diagonal? Stay put?
It's not her choice, it has never been her choice.
“Defend number 13,” Coach commands.
“Get on number 4,” Captain shouts.
Like a puppet with different masters,
She is pulled into a thousand directions.
Will someone cut the strings?
She has never been allowed scissors.
Still, they wait in the shadows.
Like lions who have found their prey.
They are silently waiting to break her.
Cover up, wear less.
What do they expect from her?
Like a book without a cover,
She could never be enough.
What is a book without a cover?
Is it just simply a book,
That no one will bother to read?
I am just a teenage girl.
She muttered.
I am not different.
She whispered.
I am normal.
She shouted.
I am not insane.