The bible tells me
I am a mere pawn
Puppet to the Hand
I move when the hand moves me
I eat
When it decides I do
I grow to be queen
And become invincible
And that queen’s crushed
When the hand wants too
A pawn
Does this hand
That moves me
Know I have feelings
Does it have feelings?
Does this hand feel pain
Or laugh
Or cry
Does it mourn
A loved one
And if this hand wanted
To play a game of chess
Where only it wins
Couldn’t it have made
Plastic pawns
And not live bleeding ones?
