Hands of string
When I was born into this world,
I was different from the rest
Born with weak hands
Born with broken wings

I’m afraid of becoming my worst nightmare
I develop and feel the adrenaline
The toxic smells in the air
Made me keen of my true nature

A monster grins inside me
I love the way it smiles
I love the way it looks at the world
A mad sensation of mundane desires.

I love the feeling of it
When it scratches away at the shell of me
It begs for freedom when I battle against it
But why? Where is the obligation?

Perhaps I am a *******,
And I want to keep all the pain to myself
I love that feeling, but I also love her
And if I can’t handle it
I’ll have no choice to but
Use my strong hands,
My majestic wings
And my new set of strings to envelope this feeling,
and never let it free.




It keeps scratching away