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
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