Those Puppet Strings

With tight Puppet Strings, it controls me,

It's iron fists strangle all breath from my lungs 

Its ink black tendrils cover my heart and envelope my mind.

There is no escape. 

 

I drown with no water about,

My tears come in rivers that stream down my face

and my screams, there in no more horrible a sound. 

 

My heart bears the pain of a thousand knives 

and my body, not controlled by my mind, convulses

Oh! This never ending labyrinth of emotion,

This tidal wave of sadness.

 

The darkness overtakes me

and when I wake,

I feel the cold shackles of exhaustion, pinning me to my bed.

 

My breath becomes shallower,

and my lids grow more heavy

And I live with the knowlege-

That it WILL happen Again.

 

 

 

◄ Belonging

The Disagreement ►

Comments

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Jason Bayliss

Sat 21st Sep 2019 09:56

The dread of falling asleep as if dipping beneath the surface of the ocean. When I was young I used to have this recurring, lucid nightmare and this is how I felt about sleep. Eventually, at quite a young age I had to remind myself that my mind belongs to me and that I am master of my dreams, although it took a while, until then I used to dread sleep. Really well written.

J. x

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Tom

Fri 20th Sep 2019 23:48

Some powerful images there. Suffocating; as it should be. Great writing.

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keith jeffries

Fri 20th Sep 2019 23:16

Profound writing and rich with emotion. I think as imprisoned souls we often scream through what we endure, knowing that there is a recurrung pattern. This poem comes from the mind where it cannot be fully understood but thank you for such a valiant display of the pain which inhabits the inner self.

Keith

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