Player Of Puppets Poem by Jessica Foyle

Player of puppets, inventor of sin
The voice of a schizoid who won't let you in
Twists with his fingers the essence of sense
The screams of a creature that's caught on the fence
His enjoyment in breaking those concrete and strong
An ender of lives, the short and the long
He is the temptation, we victims that chose
The Wrong from the Right and God only knows.

A trickster a teaser, he plays Cat and Mouse
And tears of old ladies who die in their house
The nightmares of babies that scream in the dark
Planning the path that we all must embark
The glint in the eye of a filthy pub dweller
And bruises on children found dead in the cellar
They're small and they're scarlet and spread on the ground
The tattered aged teddy that no one has found

He is the cool blade in the hand of a boy
Who's stabbing his brother for want of his toy
The fat men in clubs that chuckle and leer
Speaking foul words in the waitress's ear
Destroyer of passion the pure and the good
The frozen taut corpses that needed just wood
The stench of the hanged that sway in the trees
The moans of a widow, the Buzzing of Bees

He is all of these in the blink of an eye
Don't we notice each time he skulks by?