QUANDARY

Your subservient palms steady a muddled self,
Pull away, pull through, push closer, push back,
It makes no sense whatsoever,
Bring a mangled body back to life, strive not to let your spirits down,
Why does it matter anymore?
Drop the dead weights, exhale the slavery out,
Walk away as it has begun to grey,
How do you make someone human, by just re-arranging a pair of limbs anyway?