Accessory by Ali Alshammari

Lay me down and fillet me down,
poking at me with a butterfly knife,
bruised black with red dots like an inverse ladybug,
I’m your voodoo doll,
one stab at me is tenfold at you,
every laceration I see you contort in torment like unattended clay on a sculpting bench,
I hold you in a place where deviancy is maintained and desires are uninhibited,

I let you do the things you do because the hurt is an emotion and feelings are an acquaintance I’d like to turn into a friend,
I’ve become a play thing, a cog in a machine where dark thoughts need a little exhibition
I, I, I…it’s always about me because your mind is best left uncharted,
lower than the lowest common denominator because I’m essentially inanimate,
never the sharpest tool in the shed and now I fall prey to sharp tools,
now I realize my role is to be seen and not heard,
no longer an accessory to the fact, I’m just an accessory,
an epiphany for an object, now there’s one for the books.

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