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