Thoughts surround me
wrapping my soul
to remains of torture
and I,
breaking
to their will,
decay.
Placed to their wants
taking from me,
needs
as the will in me
[left the weak]
and ran through open doors
As the puppet master
dwindles the strings
with a broken finger
his ghostly appearance
[in pasts]
where we were love
has abandoned me
but,
still pulling my strings
with my stolen will.






4 old applause
