The puppetteer,
A mastermind at work,
At destroying others.
Pulling and tugging on the strings of their souls,
Till there is no more.
The puppeteer,
A wise, but cruel figure.
Waiting for his next victim,
to come by and get caught within his hands.
The puppeteer,
A cruel mastermind,
with a crowd of amusers.
Watching, laughing as I get pulled around by the master.
The puppeteer,
The figure pulling me and trying to make me anybody but me.
The puppeteer,
The figures in this world pulling the strings of our hearts,
trying to get us to fall into their dark, twisted thoughts.
YOU ARE READING
The Real Me
PoetryThis book is a just stuff i wrote. they may be crappy and lame like my friends think, but i hope you enjoy reading them. Please vote and comment what you think. :)
