| Puppets and Scissors ~ I guess you only play me as the puppet I truly am, I run to your side if asked, as I always have... This is not to blame you, for its me who desides who I allow to hold the strings... and to you I'd best confide... I think I'm looking for scissors, even though I seek and never find... I long to find the scissors as I dance among your silent falmes of hell I twirl within, without an iron clad spell... [the strings hold fast, undying in your grasp] ....an enigma to which I am seemingly blind... I seek undying answers, filled with questions.... I hear questions, that although answered, never die... the lnguage of the puppeteer sears into the puppets heart, which although torn apart still connected to the strings dances as she sings lines of love, words of hope... despair in the air.... because she cares. Marionette with a man for a muse, manipulated from above by strings of love... craving the darkness behind the curtin she knows not when she will dance again... the curtin rises abruptly... descending when the muse decides... do you tire dear puppeteer of your own inflections... within your heart of gold, I know what lies untold... .....yet you refuse yourself, an entrance or exit..... I feel you just behind me, as I always have... ringing notes of encouragement, there bitter melodies, leaving me lost to the sea... oh paradigm... sweet love of mine, fleece me of my soul I Marionette, pensively pirouette manipulated from above by strings of love... awaiting the curtin call... A puppet, a poet with a man for a muse... ~ Rain © cls 2003 |
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