the grass is greener where it is watered, so watch where you sow your seeds
to do so in just any garden, could get them choked out at sprout with ease

Blue sadness drips
from long tired eyes,

her star weeps alone
filling entire oceans

with the salt of life
lived not living, but

dangling from strings,
a marionette's fate.

These puppet string are held by me,
I’d say I’ve lost my grip,
this autopilot hand-fidget has really gone to ****.

I don’t feel the same anymore,
nothing bubbles in my chest,
but who’s to say I cannot feel
if its only feeling is in my head?

Hello, how are you?
I’m doing simple math,
The strings aren’t taut and funny how
every movement is an act.

The doll’s alive, and she does dance
but watch at your discretion,
because if you knew her once before
she isn’t the same person.

Store me in a foreign wooden house,
but please
let me out.
Daylight seething through skin
and bones I don't have.
Rain wiping hand-painted
stage pearl-white smiles.

Make me walk
and then run on my own
without strings holding up
my wrists and calves.
I hope by then a mile
knocks the wind out of my lungs
and while I pause for breath,
lay rest, look up
may it remind
me of the crown I wear,
the color of the sky.

Tear up scripts
made for me to recite,
and let me write
all the stories
I'd rather hear,
not just act out
with my time.

I'm not cut out for a role
I never auditioned for
or this life.

I never thought silence would be hard to bear...
There is nothing to say and nothing to hear...
I feel trapped by strings from an unknown source...
It strings me with little force...
From time to time I break free...
But it always has another way to grasp me...
I need to get used to all the new circumstances...
But I doubt my chances...
All I can do is smile and see...
The sad world all around me...

Getting close to escape, nearing the curb,
Sharp high heels, a statue silhouette,
She's daddies little girl, heavily insured,
Forget the pay day, "tough life regret."

She'll carry on, sit in a velvet chair,
Keep the rock solid cement stare,
Backed by societies interest air,
She'll pick up where daddy left off,
Even if he has to make it harder
If she chooses to follow here own path,
She'll be the spark, the fire starter,
On her way "nowhere," "gods own wrath."

She'll be a little princess, her training starts today,
Give them a dollar, she'll save it for a rainy day,
And the moment she "feels threatened" dad will pray,
It's just a hobby to force the jacket when she's cold,
To teach her she's got to wear pink, do as she's told.

Daddies given her everything, or she can be the one
Who holds the weight, she'll know she's been disowned,
She'll work off all of the hate-a silhouette-now all alone,
A marionette who's lost-strings-clipped-without a home.

Better off to be herself than living off of "humble pie" rich stash,
She'll be living a happy life, be herself, no strings attached...

Severed strings. I dangle free.
Master only to psychopathy.

Take it all. Every crutch.
Can’t manipulate,
What you cannot touch.