Dangling Laces

I'm a puppet with no life

Not a twitch, not an expression.

I lay lifeless as the strings

That connects to my being

Make pretty festoons

That decorate my room

 

It's a beautiful scene really

Me striking a pose in bed

Nearly falling like water

A small droplet, my head, slipping,

And growing as my body follows along

My fingers sliding off the sheets 

 

The edge of the bed is a cliff

Its proximity to the carpet floor

Brings no feeling of danger

There's no need to move

Because there's no soul

Not a stir or a creek in this empty home

 

My tongue rests over my lips

Gasping for something sweet

My lungs, pressured by my posture,

Hint at discomfort

And exposed cool skin

 

The world is spinning

As I lay lifeless and

I'm bored and I stare

At my shoes who aren't moving too

Not a foot to give it step. I stare.

It's ribbons and dangling laces

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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