Pins & Needles (Part 1)

The day begins,
and misery grins,
This doll is weary, from all of the pins.

To my dismay,
I'm on display,
shame heightens the pain that I portray.

These pins dig deep,
unwilling,  I weep,
One needle for every secret I keep.

Push them deeper,
the toll...now steeper,
delivering me to the hands of the reaper.

But that won't do,
it's no good for you,
so you stitch my wounds, and patch them too.

I'm allowed to heal,
the wounds congeal,
but this only adds to the appeal.

Its part of the game,
an exhibit of shame,
this mangled frame, will never be the same.

A symbol of pain,
kept to entertain,
this shell of disdain, is all that'll remain.

So poke and prod,
spiritually maraud,
You like to play god, but it is all a façade...