She opened her crusted eyes.
Lifted her body of the plush bed.
Her reflection stared at her in the mirror,
Tear stains tracked down her face,
Her makeup smudged,
Her hair tossed,
Her dress slightly ripped,
She looked like nothing more,
Than a marionette,
A puppet,
That's all she was,
"Come along my doll," he called,
She followed the puppet master.
YOU ARE READING
Oneshot poems and stories
PoetryA collection of short stories and poems. Mild-severe trigger warning, some to a lot of these were written when I had depression. *I wrote everything please don't steal it*
