Pick.
Chip.
Twist.
Writhe.
At first glance, you look just fine.
Tightly coiled,
Head down,
Rocking back and forth.
Your backbone gives you away.
Arms with muscles,
Like you’ve worked like the rest.

Pick.
Chip.
Twist.
Writhe.
Your clothes just hang.
Socks pulled high.
Someone else found them,
Old and outdated,
They characterize.
If you were in costume,
They’d see you differently.

Pick.
Chip.
Twist.
Writhe.
You laugh at the wrong time.
Your smile off kilter,
Like the sides of your face.
Head tipped,
Strain to hear,
Trying to find your place,
Lost inside your mind.

Pick.
Chip.
Twist.
Writhe.
Look up.
Dark eyes so clear,
Yet so wild.
Confused and lost.
Your eyes betray you.
You’re broken,
You’re trapped.

Pick.
Chip.
Twist.
Writhe.
We mourn the loss,
Of you.
Or of your shell?
We see what you could be.
What you would be.
If only.
You weren’t trapped

Pick.
Chip.
Twist.
Writhe.
Your arms,
Trapped.
Your laugh,
Trapped.
Your eyes,
Trapped.

Pick.
Chip.
Twist.
Writhe.
What secrets do you hold?
What demons do you fight?
What vices hold you in?
Are you tearing your hands,
Like your mind tears you?
Do you see us?
Are we trapped?

Pick.
Chip.
Twist.
Writhe.
Trapped.
I wish I knew how to let you be,
Free of all the pain.
To let your eyes find home,
To find peace within your head.
These shackles won’t bind forever.
Someday, your soul will be free.