Probing Pills

Dolls with dead eyes ,

And plastered smiles,

Walking in a beeline,

A line that seems endless,

Going on as far as as the eye can see,

Countless breathing corpses working on autopilot.

 

The dolls are mechanical,

Puppets on a string,

Strings controlled by the men , monsters and maniacs,

The dolls are designed to please them,

To be their playthings,

All the way down to the way the dolls breathe is dictated by them,

The dolls don't know what happened.

 

One of the dolls with dead eyes and a plastered smile,

Walking in a beeline,

Moving mechanically,

The air around her changes,

And the doll jerks forward,

Gasping as she does so ,

The doll seems to have broken out of the spell,

Broken out of the trance.

 

A thought crosses her blank brain,

Then another,

And another,

And another,

Until her brain is no longer blank,

The doll , urgent and upset ,

Just now realising she has to escape the matrix.

 

The doll gets a nudge from behind,

From other porcelain playthings like her,

To keep it moving,

The doll moves reluctantly,

As her mind yells caution,

She tries to tell the porcelain around her,

But her warnings fall on deaf ears.

 

The doll's eyes are no longer dead,

They are fearful and frantic,

Her plastered smile is starting to fade,

What replaces it is a hyper - aware , ugly frown.

 

Somewhere far and above,

The men , monsters and maniacs have gotten wind of it,

One of their dolls has turned deviant,

It must be stopped!

She must be fixed!

Tradition demand it!

 

Somewhere down and below,

The doll decides to make a run for it ,

Her frantic eyes dart around,

Nothing but porcelain for miles,

She draws a breath,

And with everything she has in her,

The doll runs,

And she runs,

And runs,

And runs .

 

Though what a pity ,

What a tragedy,

That the doll does not make it far,

The men , monsters and maniacs catch her,

She is shot from afar,

The air knocked out of her,

She falls to the ground,

Covered in her own bane and blood,

The porcelain around her does not react,

Deaf and blind to the gunshots and gore.

 

She is shaking and struggling and writhing on the ground,

When they arrive covered in sterile suits,

The doll is tightly tied in ropes made of lust and sin,

They take her away,

She is gone,

Bleeding out torment and terror.

 

The tied up doll ,

Her screams muffled,

Is taken to a room, a lab , a cell ,

With blinding lights,

And promises of redemption,

They're doing it for the best,

Trust them ,

Do as they say and become a pliant plaything.

 

The men , monsters and maniacs force pills down her throat,

As she thrashes and flails ,

Tied up on a wooden chair,

But after all porcelain never overpowers monsters,

Numerous probing pills down her unwilling throat,

She tried to bite the men ,

She did,

It only resulted in torture and torment.

 

The probing pills,

Given to her each day,

As she sits there,

Tied, gagged, bound and beaten.

 

The pills are starting to have their effect,

Her brain has started dulling around the edges,

She is getting dumbed down,

Until the doll can't seem to think anymore,

She has no memory of why she turned deviant,

Thinking is hard,

Obeying is easy,

She cannot remember why she ran away,

...Why?

...Why?

 

These men seem nice,

She should trust them,

Yes,

That's what she will do,

Trust them and obey them.

 

When the men , monsters and maniacs decide it's time,

When the doll's eyes are dead,

When she has a plastered on smile,

When her brain became blank again,

They release her back in the beelines.

 

She will walk on with dead eyes,

Not a thought in her mind,

Just another pretty plaything now,

And the men , monsters and maniacs have gone,

Now somewhere far and above,

From where they watch out,

Lest a doll turns deviant.

 

It's not new for the men,

To be pouring probing pills down unwilling throats of deviant dolls,

They've done it a thousand times,

And they'll do it again.

 

For every porcelain plaything in the beeline,

Had at some point or other had the air around her change,

Had jerked and gasped,

Had broken out of the trance,

Had tried to run only to be shot instead,

Had urgency in her mind,

And had tried to yell caution to the deaf.

 

And all of those deviant dolls had ended up in the same room,

Tied up on the same wooden chair,

Had the same probing pills fed to her,

And all of those deviant dolls slowly had blank brains again,

All of the thoughts gone,

Just a doll again with dead eyes,

And a plastered smile,

Released back into the beeline.