Tearing and breaking the seams. That's what it feels like when I scratch my skin. Trying hard to dig out the roots it leaves behind. When its here, it plants its strings into my arms, the back of my neck, my legs, and especially my mind.
Tightening. Setting the ropes on fire. Making me its little controllable doll. Strings attached.
Step right up, to torment the freaky puppet. Get him mad enough and wait for a surprise! Dont worry he won't leave a single trace of blood. It's all in your head, dear. Breaking you down bite by bite till your filled with nothing but flesh and bones. No state of conscience left over.
Hanging by a thread. You're not to look him in the eyes for the fear of being filled with his hypnotizing eyes. Glowing bright blue. Like hell fire.
Simply the art of distrustion.
Simply... a demon.
YOU ARE READING
Strings Attached
PoetryWarning this is graphic content. If you are easily effected by this type of content I ask you kindly to not read the following poem. Thank you. Cover: I just added the title to the picture. It is not mine.
