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Nov 2014
We live another complication everyday,
Adding another thread to bind us.

It's been so long...
Can't move my wings, my limbs--
How did I get stuck?
Did I do this to myself?
The *puppeteer
is pulling too hard!
I want to move,
But I can't
I'm twisted up,
The thread is too tight;
I can feel the dread of suffocation on the horizon.
I'm trying, I'm fighting,
I want to be free!

But I can't move anymore...

The thread won't let me,
The strings are being pulled too tight--
My prison, it cuts into my skin,
I can barely breathe enough to live on...
I want this suffering to end!

Aah! Yes...
I remember now,
I took the thread of my own free will!

It started that day...
When I heard them speak,
I did as they asked,
And the thread wound around me.

I didn't ask for answers and didn't speak of my questions;
I kept on going where their path lead,
And I ended up here:
Suffocated, stranded, in naΓ―ve ignorance.

Even though the puppeteer wants me to move,
Even though I can feel his anxiety to help;
He can't do a thing.

The thread has been wound too tight,
*If the thread won't snap soon,
I will.
Inspired by the dialogue: "I wear the chain I forged in life," replied the Ghost. "I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free-will, and of my own free-will I wore it. Is its pattern strange toΒ you?" - from A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens.
Shruti Atri
Written by
Shruti Atri  Mumbai, India
(Mumbai, India)   
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