Puppet Strings
PUPPET STRINGS
In a constant lack of motion
through the window of your mind,
all you seek is your seclusion
and a friend you never find;
you have looked in through the window
to someone you never see,
never reaching for a reason,
never thinking I'm just me.
As if you want to be alone.
Or just another skipping stone,
with someone who's better known.
In the hopeless life you're living,
all your friends will leave you cold,
it's a Ferris wheel you're riding,
and the song is getting old;
all the things you've held most dearly
come to nothing in the end,
and your search is overlooking
someone more than just your friend.
Someone who'll be there when you cry.
Who'll never think of asking why;
I will help you learn to fly.
Living songs about confusion
like a puppet on a string,
one is pulled and your responding
is whatever pull should bring;
you will go in this direction
everyone says you should go,
while the person you are hiding
is someone you'll never know.
Out through the window, I'm your friend.
From your beginning, to your end,
I will give, but never lend.
© ron wilson aka VeeBdosa the doylestown poet
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