Cutting Out Paper People

Your bones, are unanimated, from lack of use,

Your brain, does not function,
As rationally, when counting sheep,

Your spirit, Is not as pure,
As the gleam, on the umbilical cord,

Your persona, Is never as liberated,
As the artist, that paints in blood,

You wonder, why the silver coin,
Is identical on both faces,
Well, have you ever looked,
On the other side?