Are You Sick?

Made up of patchwork and cloth,

you're a regular puppet girl.

He pulls your strings,

You play your part,

and all your dreams start to unfurl.

Where is the ice and where is the gun?

You keep it all away from him.

His hands of greed

and eyes of gold

aim to please the demon of sin.

"Promise me we're forever."

Whispered words on a patchwork quilt.

He opens you up

You let him in

and try to ignore blinding guilt.

Made up of patchwork and cloth,

you're a regular puppet girl.

He pulls your strings,

You play your part,

and all your dreams start to unfurl.

He doesn't have to own you to know you're his,

and you don't have to cry to be unhappy.

He doesn't have to hit you to make you hurt,

and you don't have to flinch to be afraid.

These things are trivial,

like the letters you keep years after he's gone.

These things are trivial,

and you know you'll do anything to hold on.

Made up of patchwork and cloth,

you're his regular puppet girl.

He pulls your strings,

You play your part,

and all your dreams start to unfurl.

Mama never told you the dream could be a nightmare.

Reviews

[Leviari]

Great poem: every verse works perfectly, not one single word gets lost, the theme is clear and tastefully presented.

"He doesn't have to hit you to make you hurt,
and you don't have to flinch to be afraid."

So powerful! Thank you for sharing, it was a very inspiring reading.

[solsystemtillnervsystem]

Thank you very much! I'm glad you found it inspiring.