Broken Threads

BROKEN THREADS

It seems as if he is one with his puppet

But in actually reality he is nothing without it

For the life of a puppet master is one full of peace

It seems to me as if it may be one of ease

 

It seems that the puppet is one with his master

But in actually reality he too, is nothing without her

For the life of a puppet is one full of peace

It seems to me as if it may be one of ease

 

I sit here watching

Trying not to believe one thing,

For he WILL come back

And if he is to not, then I will be back on the rack

 

For my master is still here

He can’t have gone he is a puppeteer

He can’t have left me alone in this world

For I feel as if I have just been twirled

 

Can it really be?

What I am seeing is reality

For can he have really left me alone

To live in this world with no cartilage bone

 

 

Its been days now

And I feel like I’m forced to face how

My threads are growing old

And aren’t much like gold

 

Could it have been the mighty ocean?

Or possibly locomotion

That could’ve taken him away from me

O’ I how much I miss thee

 

The world is nothing without him

For I am a puppet with just one limb

Still trying to believe

That one day he will return with grieve

 

Until that day, I will wait

And wait

For someone to fix these threads

Or else I will be a puppet with no head.

Guide that inspired this poem: 

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