Strings

Titiritero

 

She said my hair was in my eyes
So I shaved it bald to clear my vision.
Yet it just made me blind.
I’m bound, chained to the man I once was
And the man I will be.
The present me, caught inbetween
The crowd waits, waits to see another fall.
Waiting to see me surrender to the pressure.
Where did I go wrong?
I accumulated wounds instead of experiences.
I accumulated pain instead of gratitude.
And its come down to this, a marionette is what I’ve become.
Perhaps my chains are strings and I’m being played by fate?
Or perhaps I’m braver than I think I am…
[This  poem will be continued, this dude showed up here at the office and I have to go now]

 

[Poem #43. Image by Shivenis via Flickr and a Creative Commons License.]

 

[Author’s Postscript: I wrote this personal poem years ago and how it ends is exactly what happened.  I never finished it, to be honest, it may already be finished.]

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