The Palmy Puppet Poem by Rowdy Solomon

Creeping within the crevices and cracks of existence lie
An abstract of abundant absense of a particular party of people.
Their objectives are omitted from their operation of thoughts into oblivion
Because they were never bestowed with their reason for being.
Their lives are sorrowful sattires unspoken and sketched on their souls.
They are 'stitched' together with troublesome turmoil and thrown away 'rags',
Symbolized by the thrown away dreams they valued that are now vanished from their vision.
The insides of these individuals are gutted to give a gaping glory to the keeper of the dagger.
They are swiftly sold to anything because though they are stiff, they cannot stand on their own
They are... perishing people. They are... in a bad position. They are... puppets.

This was me, and in many marvelous manners, it still is.
I believed I had no heavenly purpose, and I was hastily on my way to hell.
Working hard was my winning spirit, but when I rested, I whined.
I had a vernacular vision and no victory was visible.
My tears tangled my thoughts and fell to a tucked chin.
I had no morals, the wrong mentality, and no meaning to my movements.
My voice was not heard, and my presence was perceived wrongly.
I felt thrown away and taken to a place of temptation and trial.
Until...

My sides were sown up.
My eyes were dilated so I could die later.
My corpse was crucified and my cells were made cutting edge.
My vocals were volumed and my smile started to shine.
But wait...

My strings were never cut. I still have a Superior.
I am still captive and a character is still controlling me...
Because of Salvation, I am safe and a survivior yet...
I am freely not free...
I realized in order to become a man again I had to be made God's spiritual mirrored 'man-i-kin'
So, that is why my strings were never snipped.
They are His love, catching the creature I am when I create chaos and confusion.
I am... Prominent. I am... Perfectly Imperfect. I am... The Palmy Puppet.