Dark Autumn Conscious: Space

Of Marionettes

Broken minds like cold sapphire, lying on the floor;
Sharp, shattered pieces left my palms sore.
Your soft flesh under my brittle bones -
Were we always this cold when we were alone?

Look at them dance, mere puppets on strings;
Their fingers claw desperately at worldly things.
No thought for their maker, lying dead backstage,
They dance on, blissfully unaware of their stringy cage.

What would happen if they let themselves loose?
Forgot ancient decades of careless abuse?
Left themselves hanging in an enormous heap -
Let go of their lives and just went to sleep?

But even if they've nothing of worth left to reap -
Even if they have no tears they can weep -
I still have to wonder, with what's left of my heart,
What would happen if I just cut them apart?

Dark Autumn Conscious

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Space

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