puppeteer unhinged my strings tangled in the hands of pure love clouded by power and animalistic attraction these fingers controlling the completeness of my smile placed carelessly back up on the shelf silent and sombre limp in lack of control to be pulled back down by those skilled fingers grabbing me in the middle to make me dance as long as they touch my eyes apart from these wooden limbs and painted heart the magic touch of a mystic pest transformed back to silence 010425 what's it to you? who go blather from