Not a Master.

That first kiss tasted like shock
And tears, and pain, and hope
That first kiss
Began all this.
As everything moved you'd seen me
Bad attitude, worse hair & tattoos
A person coated in metal
A woman screaming with her eyes.
You'd looked so...sure
Stable, strong & sure -
Of me, of yourself, of everything
When we met, I thought you pure.
I became your tumour
Your beloved, terminal parasite
You made my features look like yours
And hated me for the similarity.
It was what we thought we wanted -
Me, to be fixed, and you could play repair man
In a happy show of turning screws
With our tools, made of paper.
I will show you to truth
And wait for its judgement.
You're a man - not a master
And I'm the question,
Not it's asker.

Reviews

[Christopher Miller]

As I read the line "With our tools, made of paper" I thought of paper tools being ineffective, but then of the tool being the written word. What did you have in mind? I like the metaphor either way.

[Rebekah Smith]

I was thinking more along the lines of uselessness, but I really like your other perception :)