a poetic injustice
who knew not name nor colour.
t'was i.
and i whispered
sweet nothings to your ever itching
mindset.
made you promise
to never swerve from the solid lines of
justice.
when in fact
what was preached to you was mere
garbage.
drowned you
in horrifyingly ambitious thoughts:
madness.
drove you to
slurring deep within your slumbers;
sadness.
as these gentle
fingers plucked your dainty strings
in mockery.
you no longer
understood the harsh concepts of
reality.
and soon you
finally evolved into my very own
marionette.
and i guided
you past all the things that you loved:
that have bled.
and as you flew
across the silvery screens of mirrors,
it proved true.
a poetic injustice
who knew not name nor colour.
t'is finally you.