This Armistice

Your gross fabrication of pretense could bore,
Yet still I fall victim to syntax omitted,
Just shy of something I could understand.
So blissful, I press on to the sound of the organs
Playing their most convincing tunes
As they serenade to the parade of paid-off parts.

And now the only thing left to discuss is
The details of this armistice.
We've come to this agreement.

Check my vitals.
The truth is vile, but vital to this cause.
I've been held hostage;
A captive of this passive shell.
Give me gravity, give me clarity, give me something to rely on.

Tell me who's pulling the strings
Tell me who's that you move for.
We're all puppets;
We're all marionettes.

These body parts are parts of plans,
Passed by my hands. My hands shake through handshakes,
Forsaken by my limbs.
My limbs sing the hymns; The hymns of a tyrant
In a crumbling pantheon
As inhabitants will raise their fists and bid him to disarm.

Tell me who's pulling the strings;
Tell me who's that you move for.
We're all puppets;
We're all marionettes.

Oh, how I've been teething
In light of your misleading.
You've caused this collapse
Between the heart and the synapse.