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Mark Wanless Apr 16
choose or be a life
puppet on a string is you
unless you say not
My mind is blank
In my head, dark thoughts sank
My mind is clouded
Things are shrouded
I can't see a thing
So I begin to sing
Not knowing what it shall bring
I sing of spring
I sing of my king
I see a ring
Attached to a string
What does the string bring?
Am I willing to take the risk
I need to be brisk
Shall I give my life to someone
Or decline the ring from one
Not knowing what the string brings
I've always thought that marriage is a big risk, and if you are willing to take it for someone you must be brave.
caroline h Mar 1
there is a thread connecting us, you said
and i agreed
but one end is tied around my heart
while the other loosely circles your fingertip.
"i keep coming back to you."
Dinamus Jan 10
Pulling strings in the dark
Left me tied like butterflies
Venomous bite intoxicating my heart
Spider webs desecrating my eyes
A M Ryder Nov 2020
Seems unreal
And abstract
A string of zeros
That exists in some
Strange place of its own
Lily Anne Oct 2020
A puppet on a string.
Every movement
Every word
A mimic
A rehearsal
Every breath is controlled

It wants to see the world
It wants to be free
But all the puppet can do
Is hang off its string

It wants to make friends
It wants to be happy
But it meets the string’s ends
And life’s quite ******  
It can see
But it cannot reach
It can hear
But cannot speak

If only it were free
Then it would speak
It if were free
It could reach

But the hands that hold it
Are its own
And it can’t decide
When to let go…..
Karli Z Oct 2020
Attached as if our skin
is patched together
by the red strings of fate
that signify forever.
forestfaith Jun 2020
with a million rounds,
the train, like a tongue,
rolls out of the mouth

like people,
and onto the ground it crashed.
a massive hug to the
***** concrete heart

and the last carriage
made a pact with the air as it
landed halfway, mid-air,

with strings attached to its
an origami left

with its ancient creases,
and it is desperate to
wage war upon

noises and things and
pans and iron axes,
and bang, and screech, and


beckoning you into the wheel,
with strings clawed into the
skin, like silver

linings meant for you
but we twist it around our finger
all to hard,

it hugged around too tight
and we are shredded paper,
too many wrinkles and creases

and tear-stains
on your
whatever paper.

we then, twist, oh we twist,
twist others into a slow,
uncertain dance ritual.

and i dont know what to say,
to think to say,
to tie my words to those strings

and throw it out into
the open air, dangling like a
wheel, another
form of a

roulette wheel,
and then what?
let it dance?
see if it falls and hugs

and then breaks,
or then, it breaks

idk what this is about but hey!! im back! i think its human foolishness? or its just my conscious trying to say smth? idk.
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