Staged

“It’s showtime!” they say,
you step on stage, blinding lights
shining with impossible expectations
directly into your eyes.

“Perform for us!” they say,
and your body responds like a machine
who knows that without finishing this act
the final one will be death.

“Time for an intermission!” they say,
without mentioning you’ve been gifted
no break. Behind the curtains you stand 

numb and motionless, while everybody eats.

“Bravo!” they say,
at the end of show the crowd echoes in applause.
then everyone goes home, pockets stuffed, 

except for you still stuck trying to survive.

And somewhere in the world
another child has died
on the other end of the string
held by the hands of imperialist puppeteers.

And somewhere in the world
another child has been born
a new life to exploit, a new brain to wash
and they say, “The show must go on!”

-Liz