The Master of Puppets.

Waiting
For my existence to wear out,
I become a shadow,
A silhouette,
Of my past tense. 
With your light
Reflecting on this veil,
I dance, I play, I fall
I break.

You attached strings on me,
On my eyelids,
My palms, my fingers, my toes,
My lips, my chin, my legs, my feet,
My hips, my waist, 
My sadness,
My heart. 

And you pulled. 
You pulled and pulled,
As my shadows made shapes,
My broken pieces bled,
My silent pleas unheard,
For your entertainment. 
Your hands never got tired,
Your imaginations never ran dry,
Your stories, 
They never stopped coming. 



But one day,
My broken pieces
Will be so sharp,
That I will cut your strings,
Poke your eyeballs blind, 
And watch you cry out, “The End!”

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Halloween Drama Queen.

Oh. I’m not the only one here, you mean. But look at me. Don’t you see how my costume stands out? I’m an ugly angel. See how the white light bounces off the million microscopic prisms that decorate my bloody chicken feathers? Look at the prettiest halo of a thousand rainbows around me. Do I not look beautiful? I’m smiling too. Is this where I stop pretending? Can I go now?