Random Poetry Collection

*Strings*

Limp and heavy
Your each and every limb treading
Strings pulling you every which way
No personal sense of direction
No longer in control
You are the puppet, not the puppeteer
Makes you spin from there to here, round back again
I wish I could visit when
There were no strings, no performing stage
But that was a long time ago, at a younger age
In nostalgic tears will I engage
Control I so yearn to possess once more
I can not seem to be sure
How to reattain it
How to not be the misfit, either
Unfortunately, but not, I am a fighter
So I can't call it quits
Not even for a little bit
But I don't know where I am going
I just drag where I am drug off to
I wish I could be dragging here with you
But then again, I don't
You don't deserve to be drug along a stage
Neither do I, though.
Yet, here I am
Lifeless and moving
Where to, who knows?
The strings are behind me, I cannot reach them
I cannot scream for help
My throat's stuck with phlegm
My mouth sewed shut
I try and I try but
It is of no use
Can't cut the strings loose
I could form from my strings a noose
But haven't gotten there quite yet
Wait a little longer and see where I get
Maybe one day I will walk freely outside
But there's no way of knowing
Unless I stay on the ride
With my inner demons alongside
Wiht obligated family
Who judge everyone else
And would me if they could help it
But I'm blood, and ill as well
They dare not walk on the eggshells
That surround me
How I wish to be free
Keeper of my destiny,
Under God, of course
All things He will or will not endorse
This lesson the puppeteer is teaching me I do not want
I want to be in control again
But I am disassociating,
Depersonalizing,
Undermining
All of the above
Floating
Lingering in the air, like a dove,
When I want to be on the ground with my own two unattached feet
I don't know where to go
I don't know where I am
Stuck on the stage
For how long, I can only guess
But it's putting me through a lot of stress
Making my life a disorganized mess
More so than it already was
Because
I don't know why, actually
I don't need to be factually of why
I just need to be myself again, or try
Because if I don't, idk what I'll do
I might do a lot more than cry
Headphones in to block it all out
But I can hear and feel the emptiness throughout and all within
It makes my wooden head ache
I wish I could just make
It all go away
One day...
Maybe…

No

For sure, it will
Either way, I’ll keep fighting til
Til my time has actually come
And all my life’s work is done
For myself and for everyone (else)
I just need a little help with these strings
But with the help from friends, it’ll be a better thing, a (more) easier song to sing on that stage
But even at this stage, it’ll be a challenge
But it is possible to infringe on my contract,
And as a matter of fact, I will do just that
With help of friends and family
I will prevail.