Do I Stay On Your Stage For Humiliation Or Temptation

I'm leaving, then I'm gone, 

To a place I still don't know

And the wounds that got me on this road still aren't healing

I don't know which direction to go

You keep toying me around like a puppet.

Pulling on my strings, lifting those wooden things.

I am no toy to be dealt with on your stage. 

Your feelings, their feelings.

Feelings that have been made, 

like manufactured clay, and passed out to everyone in between.

There's talk about it all over the phone,

Everyone is just like each others clones.

Staying the same, one hope, one brain,

I wonder why all you do is all you say.

I guess it's from that manufactured clay,

It's got you thinking the same way.

One hope, one brain.

In this life, individuality is all the same.

So play the game, they say, 

And pick up your piece of clay.

I fold it in two.

Give it back to them and say,

F**k you.

Author's Note

Any and all advice, constructive criticism is welcome, first one I've ever published and would love as much feedback as you can provide!