Plucks of her strings, staccato, Knock on wood, echoes, sheโ€™s hollow Marionettes canโ€™t lead, just follow Orchestratorโ€™s motive, hard to swallow. Immobilization, spitefully neglected, By her own will, peacefully rejected. Eyes painted red run, blood, infected Fluorescents, sparkles of fury reflected. Driven mad by ceaseless repetition, Delightfully disgusted, her mission, Written, spectacular piece of fiction.… Continue reading Marionette