The Puppeteer
A shadow puppet lurks,
manipulated like a mental marionette,
Creeping from the depths of my subconscious.
The voice I hear, is no longer mine.
Lusty demons I’d not forgot
Come laughing back with sinister thought.
Gashes, scars upon my heart
Tear tender wrists apart.
Indian summer cannot hinder
October’s black internal winter.
Copyright © Megan Wang | Year Posted 2015
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