Who Pulls Her Strings
I saw her stand
in that quiet room,
her shadow tall
against the wall.
Thin wires rose
from her hidden spine,
they trembled once
as if they breathed.
Her eyes were wide
like stolen moons,
they held a truth
she could not speak.
The world moved close
to watch her sway,
a figure caught
between two worlds.
Her hands reached out
as if for calm,
yet nothing came
to guide her home.
I heard a cry
inside the dark,
a whispered name
she wished she had.
I wondered then
who pulls her strings,
who keeps her still
when she wants more.
She turned to me
as if she knew,
and in that stare
I felt her break.
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
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