The Puppeteer

She strings me up with her words.
I fight my way through my day with her holding me back.
Tightens the ropes until my vision is filled with floating black spots.
She drills in me the sinatra of “ no one will love you unless....”
With a flick of her wrist she forces me to run even after my feet are bloody and raw.
Whispers dark thoughts and twisted ideas into my brain,
While she lifts my hand to my mouth and forces them down my throat until I choke.
I am praised by my peers,
People wondering what my magic secret is.
I hear her laugh as she sews my mouth shut with hot wire.
My cries for help reverberating inside my hollow body.
I feel myself dying and going limp in her grasp,
The fight no longer in me.
When will I be enough?
‘Never,” she and I whisper together.






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