Stringy Humanity

BadThiliono

There was a girl whose beauty transcended words; yet, she was ugly.

Her beauty was such that I am thankful it did not transcend perception; yet, she was ugly.

All of her beauty was subtracted from the beauty locked away; thus, she was ugly.

She was a marionette puppet going through life on someone else's strings.

Oh! What it would be to cut these strings even if it tempted life's gentle stings.

To be the master of oneself is a beauty above all else.

To not be the master of oneself is a detriment to such a wealth.

To cut the strings would be the greatest light.

To keep the strings an epitome of selfish fright.

Oh! To contemplate the cut.

Oh! To imagine the noble strut.

Alas, a puppet is the girl, a puppet this world of yours.

The only question left is why we do not return to all fours?

Why do we not erase this lie of degradation?

Is it because we cannot see the strings?

Is it because we care not of such puny things?

If the puppeteer has strings to you, then you have strings to the puppeteer.

Who can be the puppet master?

Who can be the puppet?

I can answer this not; there is a string to this pen.

I can almost feel the tug; their string is fastened to me my friend.

 

  • Author: Joshua M. (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: July 8th, 2017 20:01
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 23
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