You painted this portrait of me;
tied up, knotted marionette strings,
always bending to your will,
and a lifeless heart etched in memory
of mandatory highs.
The butterfly wings I felt
in my stomach
rotted away to dry husks;
and the strings you controlled
sliced into your idea
of perfection.
There is no silver lining
to this storm cloud;
the raindrops fall like mordant teardrops.
And I am left hung to dry
on your wall of trophies,
a display of your finely hidden disease.
All is fading from sight,
I close my eyes;
imagining this sentence worse than death
over.
For it is your will
to keep me breathing
long enough to break me
one more time.
Author notes
Image credit: http://decrepitude.deviantart.com/
http://decrepitude.deviantart.com/art/Feeding-The-Disease-28322949
A contest entry
- Quickie - Picture Inspired (Prompt now Up) by Miss Faerie.
625 points, ended January 14, 12 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - emotion illness rounds - AUDITIONS by stasis.
700 points, ended February 7, 36 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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yes.
your imagery and metaphors are gorgeous.
thanks for entering
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yes.
I loved this. That's really all I can say.
Please wait for the other judge to comment.
♣ Tegan -
This is brilliant. Marionette strings and a poor puppet rotting away in solitary confinement.
Thank you for entering and good luck
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-
Thank you very much!
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