Marionette strings

just a freestyle poem I wrote last year.

Swaying to this despairing waltz, 

As the stars flicker above. 

He’s nothing more than a puppet, 

Stuck in this forever winter. 

 

Turning away from the dance, 

He glances around, disheartened. 

Crows settle, unaffected by the cold. 

His breath becomes shallower. 

 

As the snowflakes fall,  

He remembers a time of joy, 

Darkened clouds block out the light, 

Terrified, he begs, “Don’t let me forget the light again!” 

 

Collapsing to the ground, 

His tears crystalize, 

Grasping his shirt, he hangs his head, 

Dark hair obscuring his view even more. 

 

Pain laces through his body, 

He stares at the bloody strings. 

They cut into his limbs, 

Forcing him back into the dance. 

 

He tugs against the strings,  

Rivulets of blood turn into pools. 

He screams,  

Thrashing in his self-inflected bonds. 

 

One last tug, 

The strings snap. 

The floor collapse under the strain, 

He plummets past the snow; the crows follow him down. 

 

He takes a deep breath as he falls,  

He laughs, exhilarated, finally free. 

A massive pile of leaves cushions his fall. 

He stares at the bright blue skies in disbelief. 

 

Reaching out for the sky,  

He watches the crows become doves. 

Bright light dances along his skin. 

All around him are abundant fields of green and yellow. 

He was finally home. 

Author's Note

curious to see how many people get the meaning behind it