There are strings dangling from my the chambers and valves of my heart, attached to little puppets. Quite animated, quite they are. But I have not the slightest idea by whom or to whom these puppets come to life, prancing around, flailing their lifeless limbs.
At times, the little puppets slumber like children for days on end. I come close to forgetting them, altogether. Other days, it seems they are pounding with indignant fists on the inner walls of my chest, demanding release into the open. May they burst and reap explosion, or suffocate a death mocking as it is slow, I cannot say.
Charlotte O'Connor - Just Like You Love Me Again
About Me
- Tiffany
- Perhaps what lacks undergoing cannot be embraced. On her own as her only, asking neither pity nor grace. Adrift, astray, missed the last train of today, but lift your chin little girl. Soon enough, bright ahead the sun wakes, again dares to show face.
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