She was born
only to live
like a puppet
and not a human being...
A puppet of stone
with her dreams murdered
and wishes suffocated
forever...
A puppet
with different colours
painted on her body
to be witnessed by the world...
With the ink in her pen
she heals the world
and awaits the warmth
that can't be felt...
For a puppet
has no right
to love or hate
or breathe fresh...
Days after the world
is done with her
she becomes a burden
too hard to bear...
As years pass
she starts deteriorating
the soul forever
writhing in pain...
She is mended once
but the scars all over
make her fragile
she falls never to stand up again...
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| Pic credit: deviantart.net |
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