The Puppeteer
Her tongue slithers like a serpent,
she hisses lies in your ears,
lies that slowly pile
until their chaos
annihilates inner peace.
Streams of tears
slide off her soft face,
acting as the victim
while your heart
is the one that aches.
Bloodied robes float from her shoulders,
malicious laughs hidden
beneath painful squeals.
The insanity bulges out of her eyes
piercing your unwoven soul
like a needle in a cloth,
stitching your mouth shut,
strings hanging loose.
That is how she liked it,
a world she could make her own
by playing puppets;
and you were the star of the show.
This poem is an entry to "She liked it" - Keangaroo Writing Contest Prompt, as part of 
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