The Glimmer from a Beam

Stuck in place and moving too fast,

when up is down and left is right,
where sad secrets come to visit,
and whisper at night.

The weight of her heart,

makes the bed creak and moan,

and like any doll or puppet,

the movements aren’t her own.

A stage full of puppets,
is where she belongs,

beneath a vacant smile,

masking the right and wrongs.

But the stage is crooked,

full of strings that twirl and tangle
around their pretty little necks,
making feet sway and dangle.

And as odd as it may seem,

there’s more liveliness in the stillness,

and a relief in the silence,

of the creaking of the beam.