Broken Puppet
By MrDaMan
Virgil R. Hall II (Randy)

There are strings and there are… strings.
Threads of silk and steel, of hand me down love and rusty angst lingering in the dust of worn disillusionment.
This splintered heart still beats, still swells upon high ideals.

Time takes its toll as dancing upon the stage frays gossamer and pits the iron with hard lessons of a stormy and weathered humanity. Sooner or later the weight of resistance, the weight of morality, the weight of free will succumbs to the deft touch of reason and emotion.

Yanking and pulling and finessing, wears and stress’s and stretches threads weaving webs of grand dreams of schemes that sometimes come to fruition and sometimes end in Gordian knots… all herky jerky twisted grieve.

A puppets life entwined as it is in passion and thinking.
Pulling threads and ropes and chains…
Wanting more than could ever hope to be gained.
Reeling it in and coiling upon wooden feet…

The End