Puppets and Splintered PiecesMature


you dont know me or
the hells that I’ve walked through
to get to the hell I’m in now-
you don’t get a choice
in what I say or what I do.
you can lay claim to no part of me,
but I can lay claim to all of you
I have you wrapped around my
little finger,
your hopes rise and fall at my command.
you are my puppet,
my very own pinocchio,
only your nose doesn’t grow when your lying
you grow as your lying
on my sheets,on my bed,
gasping for breath,
I own you and work you,
your very own puppeteer.
the one pulling the strings
in the dark alleys of streets
the silhouette that drives the air
from your lungs,
flying from the ladder’s top rung,
you grasp for me,
I let you fall,
humpty dumpty,
on the edge of my great wall,
and you’ll never be able to put yourself
back together again.

The End

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