The realisation of fading away. 7th December 2010.

The wires bite.

A wire peircing through my knuckles,
enveloping around my fingers.
I see my hands,
And I shiver.

I cry softly,
tears of antidote.
My blood drains as they gloat,
A wire pearcing through my knuckles.

Don't lie to me, I know it hurts still,
An emblem of my former self,
It fathoms how I feel -
Having wires.

Like a puppet,
I'm also being played,
why on earth I strive to stay,
Don't lie to me, I know it bites still.

Poetry by John Ashleigh The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 436 times
Written on 2010-12-07 at 19:51

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Rik The PoetBay support member heart!
For me this represents a very powerful metaphor of the inner struggles that at times we have to face. A fight for control. A fight for personal freedom. Enjoyed very much.

I can tell you that it's possible to cut the wires . . . and that it hurts like hell.

This seems to speak of losing oneself, I found it quite eerie, extremely well written and interesting form.

Nils Teodor The PoetBay support member heart!
Very well written
and the form of the text
is very interesting

Thanks for sharing

People tend to think they can control someone at will. The puppet knows the wire of manipulation is in force. Those puling the strings fail to notice that they too have a metal coil hooked to their motor skills as well. In reality the puppet has all the power for while the hand is sleeping the controlled is thinking. Well written with a personal style only you can deliver with that of a Shakepearian center stage.

Kathy Lockhart The PoetBay support member heart!
A beautiful reflective poem full of insight and infectious imagery. I love the use of wire in your expressions of pain and manipulation. It sears the senses.