Playing with Strings

Have you always wanted to be a puppeteer?

Did you tell mommy,

Mommy I want to control women when I’m a big boy!

I hear the sound of your cheeks stretching to smile.

whenever you know you’ve hurt me.  

Do you smell that?

I smell the stench of your loneliness.

Are you hungry?

Would you like some air?

Would you want to hear all the things you want to hear?

You made me become a disease no one wants.

Do you want people to never get near?

You say you love me but yet, you pull my hair.

 

You smelled my lavender smell from over there?

Is that why you are here?

When I dance and smile

you feel an itch in your leg.

Would you like to kick to get that off your head?

Make-up delusions when I’m not there and

assume that I can’t do it without you here.

You made me become a disease no one wants.

I’m your corn and you are the scarecrow.

Fill me up with hair.

Fill me up with despair.

Then make me choke when you are near.

I used to love the way you smelled but now I gag.

 

I can’t believe I didn’t notice the strings on my hair.

The little voice telling me what to and what not to wear.

The string attached to my legs making me walk extra mile when I had

time for some air.

The string keeping my hands from reaching the moments I lost with

the ones I love the most.

You only used me in your home and never let me out to see the world.

Like tape you stuck on me and it was so painful to take off but

 

I did it.

 

I found some siccors and

I cut them.

I cut each string with strength.

I cut one string

            two string

                    three.

And I was free.

You were no longer the scarecrow and

I am no longer your corn.

I am no longer your puppet.

I am no longer a disease.

And I hope one day

someone wouldn't be scared to get near because

You are no longer a puppeteer.  

  

This poem is about: 
Me

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