And when you look into a mirror, think of me -
Hanging above, where no eye can see.
Pulling the strings, and making you move;
You, making notches in the grooves
That guide your motion - and make you mine;
Targets of my scheme sublime.
Consider this a victory march -
Of the wrongs that live
Within the patriarch.
Consider this a funeral dirge -
Of innocence in life and hopes
That did once stir
Beneath a surface -
Ne'er to rise again.
I am the master and the slave.
3 comments:
This is wonderful. My most favourite yet.
To control, and be controlled, at once; to, and terrify and fear; to predate and be preyed on. To be your own saviour and downfall?
i think we all feel this way all the time. the question is how far you're willing to admit it to yourself.
That guide your motion - and make you mine;
Targets of my scheme sublime.
I like!
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