Marionette

Behind the curtains that surround the stage,
Hidden within the depths of his memory, she
Holds her position, and with the greatest of precision
She begins to manipulate her living marionette,
With a hidden control of her strings that would make even Geppetto jealous,
Though, her strings are not wasted on mere physical extremities,
These invisible lines are attached to his mind,
Intertwined with the fibrous lines of his emotions,
Embedded deeper than any other puppeteer’s strings,
Into the essence of what makes him a living human being….
She manipulates his soul
While for the normal person the very act of hoping
And dreaming occurs naturally,
But the unfortunate truth embedded within his reality,
Is that the birth of every dream only leads to another emotional casualty
You see, like a normal man living by design, he
Sometimes allows his mind to open the doors to other living realities,
Like caring, nurturing and loving another woman unconditionally,
But every time he tries to step through that door, his emotions are pulled,
Pulled by that very string tied to the depths of his memory,
Cloaked in the evil that is their history,
It begins to force its way through,
And like the most potent of poisonous venoms it begins to,
Suck the very life from his dream, and regardless of anything
That he attempts to do, he succumbs.
And while the sulfurous sting of sadness fills his lungs, he
Regains control of the only thing he still holds of his own,
He pulls those tears from the backs of his eyes,
Guides them through the gaps of his puppeteer’s intertwined lines,
And only allows them to flow on the inside.
So the next time you question the pain in his eyes,
And he simply replies that a man never cries,
Realize the true reality of what it is that you are seeing.
That while you may choose to shed emotional tears,
He simply chooses to work between the puppeteer,
And is most likely internally bleeding.

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