Puppet On A String

The light is not always light and the dark is not always dark, sometimes you could even say that neither exist at all.

 

Puppet On A String

 

My strings are tugged, my strings are

Pulled

By none other than the seraph in white.

Pictures flash.

Sounds roar.

Tastes burn.

Touches pain.

Scents inflame.

My strings still twirl and twist me.

Trapping me in Seraph's dance.

A puppet on the strings a-hanging

From way up on-high.

Always bending, blending, breaking

To his tune.

 

 

 

Reviews

[Tapher]

id like to think that at least once in our life, that we belive we are puppets, and its as is in human nature to wonder who is the puppeteer? Who's rules do we follow and bend to? One day we learn to cut our strings, and become our own master. great work.