Marionette

There’s a marionette inside my heart,
Tangled into knotted string.
A careless puppet for my demons,
Who have made me their plaything.

They act out scenes from a past,
Which haunt me to my core.
Understand, this happens every night…
I’m not sure I can take much more.

The endings play out all the same,
Of words that were better left unspoken.
Casting painful tears of my yesteryears,
How my soul is left so tired and broken.

Limbs are pulled to and fro,
As I dance for them in shame.
They laugh and jeer upon my tears,
And say that I’m the one to blame.

So I play the role of a ragged doll,
Further distant; while growing numb.
And it seems I have no one else to blame,
After all; you are what you become.