She's got
Too many strings
Tangled, cannot tell
Where they lead
She's pulled
This way and that way
Some play the puppeteer
Controlling her emotions
Decisions; her fears and desires;
She reached out
For something to cut with,
I caught her hand
And she grabbed a hold,
But her baggage
Was heavy with many things,
She couldn't
Get a foot hold to be freed,
What she hid away
I cannot say
As I tried
To get behind the dark veneer
Hiding her past;
Limiting my options
Trying to sort through
The signals and wires
Revealing only more
A mystery more a myth
Like an investigator
Following a lead gone cold;
My grip slipping
I questioned my resolve
To let go
Or give her time to evolve
From a defenseless bloom;
To a thorned rose
Out of the gloom
Destined to be
Her own operator
Clamping the brakes
On her free falling elevator...
© okpoet
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 4:15 PM UTC
She's got
Too many strings
Tangled, cannot tell
Where they lead
She's pulled
This way and that way
Some play the puppeteer
Controlling her emotions
Decisions; her fears and desires;
She reached out
For something to cut with,
I caught her hand
And she grabbed a hold,
But her baggage
Was heavy with many things,
She couldn't
Get a foot hold to be freed,
What she hid away
I cannot say
As I tried
To get behind the dark veneer
Hiding her past;
Limiting my options
Trying to sort through
The signals and wires
Revealing only more
A mystery more a myth
Like an investigator
Following a lead gone cold;
My grip slipping
I questioned my resolve
To let go
Or give her time to evolve
From a defenseless bloom;
To a thorned rose
Out of the gloom
Destined to be
Her own operator
Clamping the brakes
On her free falling elevator...
© okpoet
Request permission to use this poem