Puppeteer, O Puppeteer

Mon, 09/19/2022 - 15:19 -- Finley

curved wrists

spread fingers

sharp nails

strings holding me up

 

i stand limp

arms down

knees bent inward

lifting my head to the movement of your middle finger

 

i look up 

my wooden body incapable of tears

your menacing smile strikes me

 

i jerk to the left

i jerk to the right

i do a dance 

a solo tango

 

until you get bored

and then drop me

 

a wooden body 

makes a knocking echoing through the darkness 

i hit the tile floor

 

the lights go out

you walk off 

leaving me in utter darkness

 

my wooden corpse

empty

 hollow

unfilled

voidfull

 

in place of tears

my skin cracks

preparing for a life in the dark

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Debi Lyn

OHHHH man! This sounds like my typical relationship with the opposite sex. sigh

UNVALUED, used, manipulated, played with and tossed aside. UGH

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