This poem is the very element of life beating us in, breaking us, and feeling like everything we once were is lost. This is about the walk into the dark perils, and the ruins that are left once we get there.


Just a puppet to my strings
Restrained a helpless human being
I pull away; these hopeless strands
That snap with ease each time you reach
Just a toy to lead away
The streams of hate run down my face
Rivers of faith evolved to sanctioned whispers
The best secrets I tell myself; in hope one day they will help

I’m narcotic; every breath I breathe
Feeds addiction; the hate that’s me
I’m staring down two holes; true misery
And staring back; the face of me

The voices they whisper; they speak of the end
They claim this a dream; a stream of pretend
But as my dreams drip to the floor
I’m convinced this is much more
And it’s too late to change it; too late for a second look

Cause It’s now I see

I’ve lost all that makes me, me.


2 thoughts on “Puppet

  1. “The streams of hate run down my face” this line is very powerful it reads to me that the the writer is hateful with the world another strong emotional piece Sean. Craig


    • Craig,
      Thanks for dropping in my friend. I think my post today may be what gets me banned from writers carnival, quite amusing, but in a way just one of those things.
      I appreciate your time in checking this out my friend. Hope life is treating you well.


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