High Strung

Image courtesy: Pinterest (edited)
Image courtesy: Pinterest (edited)

 

To console I tried

Knowing that it was a falsehood

Stupidly fascinated

Grief surrounding, unfolded

 

I watch myself, the marionette

Going through the motions, jerky

Drawing the crowd, yet

Surprised, the strings remain unseen

 

The cords lie slack at times

But the limbs do move, still, eluding

The Self breaking through, in dribbles

The strings tire, weary of moving

 

Which is the mind?

The puppet or the puppeteer

The lines blur, the strings intertwine

The mirror doesn’t reflect.

 

Or perhaps, the eyes refuse to see

Likeness refusing to conform

What images hold in frames dear

Creating a convenient daily reality.

 

Denial denied, the layers confound

Infinite masks, melding with face

Forget the without, when the within

Fails to untangle the string bound.

–In My Need.

 

 

 

 © Sebastian Mathew

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~ by inmyneed on June 25, 2017.

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