Monster of Insignificance

I am locked up in a box.
I am faded as whiskey on the rocks.
Detached as the Godfather, I call the shots.
The farther up I fall,
I don't look like me at all.

My skin is tissue paper.
My bones, porcelain glass.
My heart, a band kid's snare drum.
My brain, a plastic mass.

No more than a comma within the volumes of design,
I don't ask for much.
Just bleed when I say bleed,
And tremble at my touch.

Impale my eyes when I'm too scared to see,
Dump my body in the forest when I'm too scared to be.
Roast me in flames if I turn too cold.
Throw me to the wolves if I grow too old.

Tell me it will be alright,
As terrors slide and slink at night.
But come morning solemnly say,
"The arrows of expectation blot out the blue of day,
Take my hand,
We fight in the shade."