December 28, 2008
I’ve always been one to enjoy a game.
A puzzle.
A challenge.
My curiosity always gets the better of me
I refuse to give up.
But this game is different.
The rules have shifted.
It was fun at first, and the reward was greater
But then I look at the consequences
Of being wrong.
I didn’t realize how high the stakes were
Like a marionette held by my strings
He is my puppeteer.
My manipulator.
He moves me around to where he wants me to go
And I follow reluctantly
I have no choice.
I’m bound.
Bound by the strings that attach me to him.
But scissors end up in my hands
And I open them slowly
And hold them to the yarn
Wanting so desperately to slice the cord
But I can’t.
Because I know that I can’t turn back
And by doing so, I’m separating myself from him
And so a tear rolls down my cheek
As I set down the scissors
I’m bound.

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