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The Puppeteer
October 1, 2009
I’m afraid of being judged.
One or two words could make me, break me, take me,
I need to get away.
I’m unable to meet your needs.
I find myself tripping on the strings that are hanging from your fingers,
Like the way words linger on lips that want to scream.
The noise in my ears is static like the color of your eyes,
My cries, despise, at all the wrong times.
I can’t move on my own,
You’re making me stay so that I play,
I’m trapped in your game.
© Krystal B., Bloomingdale , IL
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