Puppets 5/22/04

Were all puppets,
A bunch of big strings in the sky,
Someone controlling every thing we do.

A tug here causes a best friend to die.
Another tug in front makes me cut my arms.
And those tugs never seem to stop.

Almost every day,
Someone pulls the string that causes
me to fight with the one I love.

My head jerks right,
I see the world is slowly dying,
Everything and everyone slowly leaving me behind.

My fingers begin to twitch,
I see Stephs fingers pulling
gun trigger.

Life is a big theater project,
Were all playing our roles,
Some better than others.

Alanas arms are spread wide open,
She awaits the time to tell her mom
how she really feels.

Moms shoulders are hunched,
I know shes stressed,
Her sister has betrayed her, shes selfish.

I wish I could cut these strings,
So I and all my loved ones can be free,
Until then I have to fight them.

My fingers are being lifted,
I feel it now,
And so I write these poems.
 
Copyright © lyss, All Rights Reserved