A Servant's Fiber

The scent of wood chips tapping against memories Too familiar, longing to be forgotten Echos, fulminating and clinging together like angry rain clouds Shapes and angles carved to perfection, leaving no doubt A flawless art evolved throughout the years And perfectly crafted to fit her size Fabric and lace disguising the horror Feigning protection for what's placed inside A fallen victim to his beautiful evil While still desiring to be his one and only Accepting her fate, as colorful reflections become opaque How perfectly crafted to fit her size Placed gently inside, listening to delicate words of departure Hollow eyes reflecting empty dreams from long ago A checkered blanket of shame shrouds an irrevocable pain "Goodbye" she whispers, to nobody, to anybody Darkness tumbles slowly, erasing her light, line, by line, by line Now perfectly crafted to fit her size Forlorn eyes blink open, just as before Listless senses return home like the prodigal son Her voice has changed, lifeless and cold, yet volume and pitch remain the same Her new dwelling now harbors her dreams, her hopes, his lies And perfectly crafted for a soul just her size For I am his puppet, attached to sturdy white strings His benevolence and charm a mere disguise Beliefs once my own, now directed by vacant hands I no longer exist, my spirit lay dormant He is now the master, and I..... So perfectly crafted to fit his size