Nothing can ever be simple, must always have a complication.
No situation can ever be rendered, there must be self conclusion.
Nothing is ever just there, just existent.
My life, it has strings attached to every memory, every situation, every conflict.
Strings no one can cut, or even touch. Strings of metal, of anger, of steel and lust.
Strings of love, of failed efforts.
Constant strings hanging off of, tied on, wrapped around, every memory.
Strings that cannot, will not, be cut.
My life, it has strings.
Strings of remorse, regret.
Strings I can't cut.
And strings others refuse to stop pulling.
My life has these strings, and they keep getting longer, keep getting stronger.
And my life's value will diminish under the knots of these strings.
My life, it has strings.
