“I was your broken little puppet.
With her strings still attached.
Too bad I didn’t stay that way.”
And I was your broken little puppet. With her strings still attached. You see, I knew what you wanted from me. I knew what drove your mind that night, without you ever uttering a word. How odd it is to fathom how I was so lost — so well trained — that I performed exactly as expected of me. It was the look I felt in your eyes as you looked at me, silhouetted by the flames. It was you, and everything about you. It was the way my body moved against my will. How my feet kept moving despite my mind’s screams to tell me to stop. Maybe that was when I realized, I wasn’t a puppet any longer, but a mindless drone. Nothing, but a shell. My body, a husk.
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Fixed the issue! Thank you for letting me know!
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You’re welcome. I wanted to browse your posts. Glad you fixed it. Jeanne Marie
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This gave me chills!! I can feel the emotion as I read. Look forwards to more from you!
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This is a repost, visit Sarah at https://thesarahdoughty.wordpress.com/2018/05/28/the-puppeteer/
for more. She is an incredible writer. Thank you for commenting!
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Just want to let you know that the links to your poety and links to other things on your home page are not working. Jeanne Marie
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