Is it God I’m searching for?
Is it whispers deep,
deep in my ears?

Is it someone puppeting me?
With threads of gold
tieing me into knots

Resisting the pulls on my hands,
I tug with my might
And my arms fall with a thud

I wish to lift my arms,
Their muscles weak
By my own design

I beg for my tethers back, to a blank face.
Stone gaze,
With eyelashes of gold

Tears crash like waves on my chin.
Puddles of ash,
Begging words spilling out as sand

Cold lips press together as a silent nay.
I lift my arms to pray
But sadly they stay limp at my sides