The Weeping Rose

Puppet of the world

The prison of strings
Held her captive
Like a little doll.
She walked along
The barren land
Trying not to fall.
She climbed and climbed
The rocky dune,
The wasteland she despised.
She hated thinking
She was controlled
By some little ties.
They laughed
And tugged at her,
Pulling at her limbs.
They made her cry
She stumbles,
The light around her dims.
She allowed
The devious strings
To pull her to the ground.
As she lies there
In the gravel,
She starts to look around.
She doesn’t need
These dogmatic strings
To help survive
Her barren world.
Then she found
The twisted plot
Began to come uncurled.
Her rages,
Her bondage,
The always too tight ties,
They didn’t help her live her life,
All they told
Were lies.
She watched and helped
The world around
Begin to grow in life.
She began to
Cut her cursed strings
With a jagged knife.
The once beaten girl
Danced in delight.
She no longer
Had to worry about,
Some foolish string’s cruel bite.

posted by The Shadowpax @ 5:39 PM