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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Before I See the Light.

Death comes dancing on the threads of thought that bind my brain. No blade is sharp enough to break them. Before it reaches me, will you pull me away? Will you hold my hand and jump into this dark abyssal depth? There is light underneath it all. Let us find it. Come with me.