A puppet was she
As beautiful as the sea
Her steps were rhythmic
Controlled by strings
Her hand held scissors
She could have been free
But she was afraid she'd fall
Fall over and never rise again
Were the strings binds or supports for thee
She was a beautiful bird you see
People admired the bird
They never saw the struggle
As she cut herself free
Or the tears and the strength
All the struggles she had
To them she was a prodigal case
They the final product and applauded always
YOU ARE READING
Poeticedema
PoetryA collection of my thoughts captured in the form of poems *I started writing poems less than an year ago so these might not really be any good. But, I hope you enjoy this collection❤️
