there are some days when it's the headache and you, not you and the headache.

just pound after pound, the core of your brain. the beat you never intended to dance to. and look at us, puppets.

like a ball on a string, our heads rattling around, unaware that heads don't rattle.

trying to push away the push of pain through pills that we pop to pop this pressure point.

but figuring out where to place the pin is the pause.

you don't want to make it worse, but if you can't make it better, best to just...not.

how do normal people function? what is this magical nirvana of blissful calm state? how does one close their eyes and sleep?

when headache likes to play, you can only hope they don't pull the string too hard.

It’s never good when you find out there’s strings attached. It’s even worse when you find out you’re the puppet.

©

Is it not a paradox that her deception should leave her beauty so unmarked? Her winsome countenance - generously admired - leaves her suitors abject; mere puppets on a string.

Verily, the essence of her is as a tarnished trinket. For to mine own soul she appears as jaded as a ***** house quean. Her eyes which once shone with the light of truth unblemished, a colourless and infinite mire overgrown with the entangled falsehoods she has seeded.

With a shadow creeping behind me, making every promise empty.
Intoxicating my nerves, I am being chased.
Stalking my forecast, I run at ten speed.
No stopping, I turn around to see a shadow so empty, its mere whispers have demolished into misty ash.
It haunts my every being and stalks my rotten prey.
It displeases my humanity and consumes my lost soul.
I run, run so fast, the lights hit bloom.
Scared, fearful of what it can do, I look down, I see the shadow
...
The shadow was you.

The ghost I'm trying to escape, just keeps coming back.
The feeling is poison, but beautiful at the same time.
The feeling is toxic, but fills my void of loss and emptiness.
You're a bad guy, playing with my emotions and unleashing my toxic tears.
Confusing my feelings and handling me like a puppet.
Why do I love you?
Since you're the master of puppets, you've dominated and learnt to control me.
Let me go.
Or I will turn around, and leave.
Leave you empty, till you lose control.

Dance to my tune
Puppet of puppets
Think to yourself that you are in control
Let me control you with strings of Steele
Forever remain in my shadow you will.

Know your god or gods
But know that I am the one in control
I control true fear true anger true hate
I am what's wrong with this world
I am what governs justice
I am what you seek to accomplish.

But you cannot abolish me
For I am your god
And without me you are lost

Those who do have me govern the world
For I am power in a material form
So dance about to my tune
I am money and you are my slave

Work for me everyday
Slave away till your bones give out
Remember I am the only thing with power
And with me you too can control justice
So take my hand as puppet under my control

In circles convoluted still
We poor dumb puppets turn;
The wind, a thief
Of voices, screaming
That which once was ours-
A shrieking cry more animal
Than man.
Time itself is dancing on
The puppet master’s strings.