We are but children
Dancing to a tune we do not know
Playing our hands with strings
Attached to toys we use as puppets
And acting god.

We see a world of possibilities
The laughs
The smiles
The joy
The potential.

We take what strings we can
Hold them
Dance with them
Listen to the whirs
Of their intricate ties
The songs that sing
When they move.

But when they break,
What then?
Do we become
Inconsolable monsters
Ravaging everything in our paths,
And only looking back
Ages later
To see
Maybe
We were in the wrong?

When someone takes a string
That we held close to us
Trying to control our puppets
And theirs as well
Do we scream?
Do we fling things childishly about?

We are but children
Though we pretend to be other.

Damaged,
Broken,
Desperate children
Seeking shelter from the storm
Under tree branches.


Oh what poor fools we are.